


Of Kings and Queens

by lyn452



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Out of Character, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-01-10 11:37:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12298464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyn452/pseuds/lyn452
Summary: What if Viserys had lived? How would have Season 7 played out with him included?





	1. Arrival at Dragonstone

**Author's Note:**

> So there’s no way this could have happened. Viserys would have pissed the wrong person off at some point and died no matter what. But the idea popped in my head and wouldn’t leave. So let’s just pretend the competence of the people surrounding him exceeded his own stupidity. And maybe he stayed at the villa instead of traveling with the Dothraki in Season 1.
> 
> Also, Daenerys may be a little OOC, but it’s because I think Viserys being alive would have changed her character’s evolution. I see her as regressing some after Drogo’s death, but ultimately learning how to be the strong Dany we know but still operating under her brother’s abuse. She also will probably grow more into her usual self as the story progresses.

Jon couldn’t believe his eyes. Dragons. Three Dragons circled the keep. Legends made real. For the first time in a long time, Jon felt hope. These beasts might be able to defeat the army of the dead. Their fire might just be enough to stop the Long Night.

Jon took a deep breath. He had to convince the king to join him, give aid to the north and abandon his claim to the throne. He tried to remember everything Maester Aemon had told him about the former beggar king. Aemon had said that Viserys had bought a slave and sellsword army and gained his navy from negotiating with the masters in the Slaver cities.

He also remembered Aemon mentioning that Viserys’ sister was said to be the most beautiful woman in Essos or Westeros. Jon wished that hadn’t been something he remembered. It wasn’t useful information and just made him nervous about this whole deal.

“You look nervous,” Tyrion observed. Jon had been happy to see the dwarf. They hadn’t known each other long, but Jon still felt like the little man was a friend.

“I’ve never seen dragons.”

“The princess will not let them harm you.”

Jon’s eyebrow raised at that. “The princess? Not the king.”

Tyrion pointed to the smallest dragon. “The white one is the king’s mount. But they all follow their mother’s commands.” Not the king’s, Jon thought. Tyrion pointed to the largest one now. “The black one is the princess’ mount.”

Jon understood why it was the princess who commanded all three dragons. Her steed was twice as large as the other two. “The green one doesn’t have a rider?”

“Unless you have a spare Targaryen hidden up north somewhere, then no. We don’t have a third rider for our third dragon.”

They made the rest of the journey to the throne room in silence.

 

* * *

 

Jon was not impressed by this king. He may have been taller than him, but he looked smaller. Jon could tell from his vicious look and smaller stature this wasn’t a man who’d ever actually seen the frontline of a battle. The sword at his belt looked barely used.

Jon immediately hated him.

The King in the North looked around the rest of the room, studying the real warriors this king had brought with him. A few had braids and wore furs, others were in matching uniforms and carried long spears, and those closest to the king were scarred sellswords. Jon glared. What kind of king had to pay men to fight for him?

The king spoke, cutting off the woman who’d been announcing him as the rightful king, his voice higher than Jon would have guessed, “I hear your last name is Snow. Why is it the North is sending a bastard to treat with their king?”

Jon held back a snarl, wishing for his sword back. He noticed Tyrion’s sigh at his king’s words. Davos spoke up, “Jon Snow is King in the North. There is no man higher than him in the North.”

“The North has no king, I am king,” Viserys half-stood, screeching.

“You’ll have to forgive our king,” a silky voice answered. Jon’s eyes saw a beautiful woman approach the throne, putting her delicate hand on the king, guiding him to sit again. She was clothed in leathers and furs but Jon suspected she must be cold due to the amount of skin she was showing. He guessed this was the king’s sister, Daenerys Targaryen.

The rumors weren’t exaggerated. Jon doubted he’d ever seen a more beautiful woman.

She smiled at Jon, and he had to repress the feeling of warmth that came from such a small attention. “But I seem to remember from history lessons that the last King in the North was your ancestor, Torrhen Stark. Who bent the knee to my ancestor, Aegon Targaryen. In exchange for his life and the life of the northmen, Torrhen Stark swore his allegiance to House Targaryen in perpetuity.” She looked over to Tyrion. “What does perpetuity mean?”

“Forever, your majesty,” Tyrion answered.

The king smirked at the exchange, and Jon wanted to climb up to the throne and punch the little shit along with his Hand. Viserys asked, “So you are here to bend the knee?”

“I am not,” Jon answered.

Viserys nearly snarled. “Then why are you wasting my time? I have a war to fight. The usurper’s wife sits on my throne.”

“Because it doesn’t matter. The fight for the Iron Throne is nothing compared to the fight that is coming for us all.” Jon inhaled. “The dead are coming for us. We need your help and your dragons to defeat them.”

Viserys said nothing for a moment, then he began laughing. “Dead men are marching. Do you think me a complete fool?”

From what I've seen, yes, Jon thought. “No, your grace. I only tell you the truth. The army of the dead are coming for us all. I’ve seen it. I need your help to defeat them and save all of Westeros.”

“This nonsense bores me,” Viserys’ hands dismissed it. “Kneel before me now and then we’ll feast.” He leaned forward with a grin. “I’ll even give you your pick of one of my pleasure slaves.”

Jon felt disgusted. He looked to Tyrion who avoided his gaze, looking embarrassed. “There’s no time for that. The dead march south and I need your armies and your dragons.”

“Then bend the knee and we will help you,” Tyrion interjected before his king could say anything.

Jon lost his temper, frustrated by men not listening to him. “And why would I do that? As far as I can tell, your claim rests entirely on your father’s name, and my own father fought to overthrow the mad king. The lords of the North placed their trust in me to lead them and I will continue to do so as well as I can.”

“Your father was a traitorous dog,” Viserys replied, screeching again. “The usurper’s mutt and he got a traitor’s death.” Jon could feel his fist clench, knew he was about to do something very stupid, but the king continued, “Perhaps you’d like to join him?” He looked to his guards. “Bring me his head.”

Jon dropped into a fighting stance. He may not have his sword, but he wouldn’t go quietly. Tyrion raised his arms and turned to the king, “Your grace, we talked about this.”

But the men stopped at the princess’ command. “Stop.” It did not escape Jon’s notice that the men obeyed Daenerys far quicker than the king. Just like the dragons.

She turned to her brother, “Viserys,” she tried to put a hand on his arm, but he stood and took a step away from her.

Viserys yelled, “Don’t touch me.” His hand went over his shoulder, and Jon also noticed Daenerys’ flinch at the sight. “I am the king. I command you.”

Daenerys said, calmly and carefully, “You are king. And you are a great king. Our guests are tired from their journey. They don’t know what they are saying. They can’t see your greatness. Allow me to escort them to their chambers.”

“Fine,” Viserys grumbled. “I have more important matters to attend to than this dog anyway.” Viserys gave Jon one final sneer before exiting to some side room. “Come Hand,” he called behind him.

Daenerys and Tyrion exchanged a look that Jon couldn’t quite read. But Tyrion followed his king and Daenerys descended the throne to offer Jon her hand. Jon noticed the way her hips moved as she walked, that wasn’t the walk of a lady. Though her posture and manner was of high birth. She was a hard woman for him to pin down.

He’d hoped up close he’d notice some flaw in her perfect beauty, but instead he was surrounded by some exotic perfume as he looked upon her heart-shaped face. “Shall we?” She held up a hand.

Jon took it as he’d been instructed to by teachers long ago. He was wearing his leather gloves, but he still swore he could feel the heat of her hand in his. A servant took Davos another way, leaving Jon alone with the princess.

“How was your journey, my lord?”

Jon thought it odd that she would make small talk now, after her brother just threatened to kill him. He decided to just let her have this. “The seas were kind.”

She nodded. She bit her lip before speaking again. Jon tried not to notice how perfectly shaped her lips were, tried not to imagine them on him. Daenerys said, “I always thought White Walkers and the army of the dead were legends? Make believe stories that may have happened a thousand years ago, but not today.”

“Much like dragons?” Jon was happy to see her slight smile at his retort.

“Perhaps.”

He asked, “Tyrion tells me the dragons are yours, not the king’s.”

She smiled, “Yes, though Viserys rides Balerion.”

“I thought he rode the white one.”

“Yes, he does. He wanted to ride the black one, but Drogon only allows me upon him. He still thought his dragon should be named the same as Aegon’s.”

Jon could tell Daenerys felt a connection to her dragons. He had come all this way to build an alliance with the Targaryens. It would be foolish to throw that all away because the king was either mad or idiotic. He asked, “What’s the green one’s name?”

“Rhaegal, after our brother. If he’d lived he would have been the third dragon rider.” She looked off into the distance. “I think he might have loved that.”

“Who wouldn’t love to ride a dragon?”

Daenerys laughed, a clear feminine one. It felt like ages since Jon had heard a laugh like that. She looked at his confused face and laughed again. “I’m sorry, it’s just my brother and I are often called dragons as well.”

Jon didn’t understand for a moment longer before his mind realized what he’d said about riding a dragon. His face heated, which seemed to further amuse her. "That's not what I meant."

She stopped walking, taking her hand away. “This is your room, Lord Snow. We shall have a bath drawn and supper sent up.”

He nodded and moved to step in, but Daenerys stopped him, placing her hand on his arm. “If it is the dragons you need, you need me more than my brother.”

Jon wasn’t sure what to make of her statement. “I need his armies as well to stop what’s coming.”

Daenerys leaned in more, her breast now touching his arm. Jon looked around, he wasn’t sure if he was happy or not to find they were completely alone. “You need an alliance with my brother. A marriage would make the most political sense.” She leaned in further. “A princess is a fine consort to a king.”

Jon never would have guessed that this conversation would end up here. “Why would you suggest that? We barely know each other.”

“That’s hardly a problem for a political marriage. I’ve known Viserys my entire life. You’ve only known him a few minutes, but tell me, would you want to marry him?”

Point taken, Jon thought. She moved her hand, lightly brushing over his arm, “Think well on it, Jon Snow.” She leaned in to whisper. “I’ve heard tell you were a man of the Night’s Watch. I imagine you have a lot of lost time to make up for. I would allow you such release, my brother made sure I learned from a pleasure slave.”

She stepped back, her royal mask in place again. “Enjoy your stay, my lord.”

Jon watched her leave, his thoughts completely jumbled.

 

* * *

 

Daenerys heard her brother’s screaming from down the hall. Part of her just wanted to retreat to her rooms, let the others deal with his temper tantrum. But she thought of her mother, a queen always did her duty, no matter the cost. She entered the room as quietly as she could, but Viserys still noticed her.

“You.” He pointed at her. Daenerys was surprised it took him so little time to decide whatever ailed him was her fault. Though she really shouldn’t be surprised. “You under mind me in front of my men, in front of rebellious lords. You are the reason I am losing my war.”

Daenerys wanted to answer that she was the only reason he had an army to wage his war. But she stepped lightly, looking at Tyrion. “What’s happened?”

“We’ve lost our allies.”

“Yes, you and your clever plans.” Daenerys wanted to stand up for Tyrion, but knew better than to arouse her brother’s anger further. “I should just take Balerion and burn the Red Keep to ashes.”

Tyrion sighed, “We’ve discussed this.”

But Viserys ignored him, pointing again at Daenerys. “Give me my dragon. He doesn’t come to me alone, but you will command all three of them to join me in taking King’s Landing.”

Daenerys responded, “I will not have my children burn cities for you.”

“I am your king! You will do as I command.”

“But my children will not.”

He smacked her across the face and the force of it sent Daenerys into the painted table. Viserys pulled his sister up by her hair. “You will command your beasts to do as I say or I will have them slaughtered.”

“You are the Dragon King,” Daenerys pointed out. “Without them, you are nothing.”

He released her. He nearly yelled in frustration before storming out of the room. No doubt to the comfort of alcohol and some slave. Daenerys stood slowly, ignoring the hand Tyrion held out for her.

“Sometimes I forget how awful he really is until someone like Jon Snow shows up and makes me be ashamed to follow him.”

Daenerys felt her cheek, hoped it wouldn’t leave a mark. Her brother needed to learn not to leave marks upon her. It didn't reflect well on a royal family. “I did my part, planted the seed like you asked. Don’t know why you’re bothering though. Viserys will never allow me to marry him.”

“He’s married you off before.”

“He doesn’t think he needs the King in the North.”

“Viserys already asked you to seduce him to get him to our side.”

Daenerys didn’t bother asking how Tyrion knew that. She replied, “Seducing is not marrying.”

“No, it’s better. It will work. Jon Snow is too honorable to fall into bed with you.”

Daenerys felt a little insulted. No man had ever resisted her. Jon Snow was a living, breathing man; she could and would seduce him as commanded by her king. “Jon Snow is never going kneel to Viserys.”

“No, of course not,” Tyrion agreed.

“So why are we bothering with this? Why would you want me to marry this King in the North?”

“It would be a good alliance. Jon Snow can keep the North with you as his queen, and Viserys will have an allied neighbor for as long as you live.”

“Viserys isn’t going to let you give away half of his kingdom.”

“The North is never going to be his. Those stubborn northern fools might bow to dragons, but they aren’t going to bow to him.”

“And have you told him this?”

“I’ve tried to hint at it.”

Daenerys shook her head. Subtly was lost on her brother. Daenerys walked beside the painted table, looking at the North. “Not that any of this matters if my brother decides to kill Jon Snow.”

“I have advised the king that we cannot continue the tradition of northern leaders coming south and getting killed by southern rulers. It will just make the northern leaders stop coming south.”

Daenerys wondered if her brother would listen to wisdom or do something foolish. She guessed he would do something foolish. “Why do you think Jon Snow is here? He must have known he could be killed.”

“He told us. The army of the dead is marching towards us.”

“And you believe him?”

“I don’t know him well. But Jon Snow is not a liar or a madman. I believe he thinks what he says is true.”

Daenerys looked at the wall and the territory beyond it. Could there really be such monsters there? “Viserys needs to better control his temper around strangers. Did you see Lord Snow when he raised his hand against me? If our plan works and I gain his affections, he might kill my brother if he sees the king hit me.”

“Yes,” Tyrion replied. “And we would all mourn our king greatly and then put you on the Iron Throne.”

Daenerys chuckled at the Hand’s sarcastic tone. “I shouldn’t laugh. That’s my brother. My kin. I don’t want him dead.” 

“I keep telling you, the virtues of kinslaying are often overlooked but are actually numerous.”

 

* * *

 

The next day, Jon inquired after his ship and was told he wouldn’t be seeing it anytime soon. It infuriated him. He had thought on it, and he would get nowhere with this miniature mad king. His time would be better served aiding his people in the north.

But it appeared he was trapped here.

He looked out over the sea, the breeze catching his furs. He thought of what he’d seen Hardhome, really he never stopped thinking about it. The dead were coming for them all and no one else seemed to care. He remembered the king’s laughter when he’d told him. It burned him that he appeared a madman when in reality he was the only one making sense right now.

Movement caught his eye and he saw Tyrion Lannister make his way toward him. He waited to let the smaller man say his peace, a joke about failing to brood, before replying, “You tricked me.”

“I did not,” Tyrion sounded offended.

“You would have us bow to a mad king again? You serve that…” Jon’s words failed him, only vulgar ones came to him. Not political to call a king a shit stain, his sister would warn him.

Tyrion looked as if Jon had struck him. “I didn’t have many options at the time.”

Jon shook his head. “I won’t bow to him. He can burn me alive like my grandfather or chop off my head like my father. I won’t bow to him.”

Tyrion said nothing, looking out over sea. “I understand.”

Jon’s eyes narrowed, he’d expected Tyrion to try to convince him, of something. But the man said nothing. Jon thought for a moment, wanting to ask, but fearing some unseen risk. He still asked, “What’s the sister like?”

“Daenerys?” Jon nearly flinched at the unabashed curiosity in Tyrion’s tone. “She once told me that she observes her brother’s behavior and then strives to act in the exact opposite way. It’s served her well from what I can tell.”

Jon hesitated before he said, “She suggested that I should marry her.”

“Daenerys doesn’t really have the authority to do that.” But the lack of surprise in Tyrion’s voice made Jon wonder if it’d been planned before he arrived. Tyrion’s next words made him almost certain that was the case. “It would be a good match though. Allow the North its autonomy while allying it with Viserys. It may be for the best.”

“And Viserys isn’t going to resist giving away his queen?” Jon knew as well as anyone that Targaryens married each other more often than not.

“You wouldn’t be the first. He sold her to Khal Drogo for an army. To Xaro Xhoan Daxos for wealth. He let the Second Sons’ commanders rape her for their support. Then married her off to Hizdahr zo Loraq to gain favor with the masters.”

Jon was horrified. Who would do that to their own sister? “And you want me to ally with this monster?”

“Many have called your pet direwolf and me monsters. Sometimes you must look a little deeper to find the true meaning. Besides, it sounds like you face an army of monsters. Perhaps you’ll need a monster to beat them?”

Jon didn’t want to admit that he might just need Viserys to defeat the Night King. He said nothing. Tyrion spoke instead, “Why are you here?”

“I told you, the Army…”

“Army of the Dead, yes, I got that.” Tyrion interrupted. “But you’ve been given two solutions to that problem, bend the knee or take Daenerys as a wife, yet you’ve refused them both.”

Jon said nothing. He would not bow to Viserys Targaryen. And marrying Daenerys, he wished Sansa was here, she understood such politics better than he did.

“Is there anything else you want?” Tyrion asked.

Jon knew he couldn’t trust this man. He understood his father had trusted the wrong men in King’s Landing and he’d died for that mistake. Jon wasn’t looking to make the same mistake now. But he looked at Tyrion who seemed genuine. Jon figured it was nothing lost. “Dragonglass.”

“What?”

“Dragonglass. Dragonstone sit upon a mountain of it, apparently. I need it for weapons to kill White Walkers and wights.”

Tyrion didn’t looked all that convinced but nodded. “Consider it done. I will speak to the king immediately.”

Jon began to walk away, but Tyrion’s voice stopped him. “Jon, be careful. Daenerys may look sweet and innocent, but she’s a dragon. Many men have underestimated her. They are all dead. Those men who raped her and married her under false pretenses? Not one of them breathes, and Viserys certainly gave no orders.”

Jon was surprised to hear this. Why were they talking about the king’s sister? Did Tyrion actually think Jon would be seduced into giving away the North? He thought about the king. “What about the king? Does he underestimate her?”

“He does. Fortunately for him, Daenerys loves her brother.”

Jon nodded, but the words would be pondered at length.

 

* * *

 

Daenerys walked into the room, she noticed how low the cask of wine next to her brother was. She took the seat furthest from him, knowing that Viserys was never at his best when he was drunk. She didn’t want to wake the dragon. “Hello brother,” she greeted him, accepting the food and drink the slaves brought them. 

Slavery made Daenerys uncomfortable, especially bringing them with to Westeros where the practice was illegal. But her brother had insisted, asking her who else would serve them. Still, she remembered the looks of disgust men like Barristan Selmy had given her brother when he talked about bringing slavery back to Westeros.

Viserys didn’t notice her discomfort. He never noticed anything. He asked her, “How is it coming with our King in the North, hmm?”

Daenerys looked away. “I haven’t had a chance to see him again. He’s too busy looking for that dragonglass you allowed him to mine.”

Viserys banged a fist on the table. “I will not accept excuses. Your king commanded you to bed him.” Viserys stood, picking up his glass. Daenerys’ spine stiffened as he walked towards her. Viserys’ hand cupped her chin. “Sister, my dear, sweet sister. Why haven’t you seduced that king yet? You’ve had several days now. I thought no man could resist you?”

Daenerys felt like she was a child again, trying not to anger her abuser. “I’m trying.”

He smacked her. “I will not allow failure, dear sister. If you don’t get that wolf in your bed by week’s end, I cannot be responsible for what happens next.”

Daenerys watched him return to his seat. She hated this man. She would rather die than see him on the throne. How many would die under his rule? Under his incompetence? Her family would be no more with him on the throne. He was just a repeat of their father.

She tried to repress the thoughts. He was her brother and she loved him. She shouldn’t wish for his death. How many times had she stopped other men from harming him? How many times had she saved his wretched life? All because of family loyalty. All because of fonder memories of a younger, sweeter Viserys that took care of her.

The king sat again, ordered another cask of wine. “Do you understand what I need from you? If you can’t bring that dog to heel, I will have to do it.”

Daenerys wanted to explain, again, to her brother that killing the northern king wouldn’t help them. “It’s going to take more time than that, brother. This northern king is the type who needs to think it love.” She met her brother’s eyes across the table. “That takes time.”

“Fine,” her brother’s attention was diverted by the fresh wine. Daenerys picked at her food. She ate enough but never had much of an appetite in her brother’s presence. He had grabbed one of the slaves, bringing her into his lap. The poor girl looked frightened as he faked biting at her. He looked up again, “Did you say this king needs to love those he fucks?”

“He seems the type,” Daenerys took some of her wine. She actually had attempted to engage Jon Snow a few more times, but he always dismissed her for his mission. She knew he wasn’t going to fall into bed with her in blaze of passion. She was going to have to earn it. She guessed love would do the trick.

Viserys snorted, “What a weak man. How could he ever be a king if he can’t even separate some emotion from fucking?”

Daenerys thought Jon Snow was probably a much stronger man than her brother would ever be. “I don’t know, your grace.”

 

* * *

 

Jon Snow saw her watching her dragons play in the sea. She looked beautiful and other worldly. He’d been avoiding her lately. Tyrion’s warning kept bugging him, and he could feel the attraction he felt towards her, knew he didn’t have time to let such a thing get in the way. The danger that faced them was too great, his mission to important to get distracted by a pretty face. 

Still, Jon knew he was getting nowhere fast with the king. When Jon had been summoned to the throne room to be told he was permitted to mine the dragonglass, Viserys had said enough insulting things that Jon had left the room and immediately punched the wall. It hurt him more than the wall since it’d been stone, but as he’d argued with Ser Davos, it was better than punching the king.

The princess was Jon’s only hope to get the Targaryens on his side. He knew that. Still he hesitated. She did seem more dangerous than her brother, and not just because of her dragons. Jon had understood Viserys within minutes of meeting him. He had the full character (or lack thereof) of the man. He knew the king couldn’t be trusted, had a higher opinion of himself than was deserved, and reacted emotionally to everything.

The sister though, Jon regarded Daenerys. He couldn’t understand her at all. He didn’t know if she was as cruel and mad as her brother or his complete opposite. Was she a temptress or a lady? Was she trustworthy? Jon just didn’t know.

He guessed the only way he could possibly better understand her was by getting to know her better. He approached her. She noticed him coming. She turned back, “How’s your mining coming?”

“Good. We’ve found a large cache today. It should be enough.” His eyes followed the dragons. “Amazing thing to see.”

She nodded. “People thought dragons were gone forever, but here they are. Perhaps we should all be examining what we think we know.”

Jon looked at her, “You believe me then, about the Night King and the army of the dead?”

Daenerys ignored his question. “Your family is up north?”

Jon wasn’t sure where the change in topic came from, but he went along with it. “Aye,” he said. “My sister, Sansa. She’s all that’s left of my family.”

Daenerys nodded. “I know what it’s like, to have your family practically wiped out in a single generation. How tightly you hold on to what's left. She's safe?”

"Yes," Jon thought of Brienne of Tarth. "She's got good people looking out for her."

"That's good. Brothers should keep their sisters safe."

Jon glanced over at her. She seemed sad. The Targaryens were probably the only family that really could understand what the Starks had been put through. He put it aside. “Will your brother let me leave when I’m done?”

“No,” Daenerys replied. “Not without you bending the knee.”

“I will never do that. I will not surrender the North to your brother.”

“Even if you die? He will kill you for it.”

“Some things are worth dying for.”

“The best things are worth living for.” Jon looked at the princess again. “I suppose you see yourself as some hero in a story. Dying for honor, duty, or love, no woman wants a man who does that, you know. We want a man who lives.”

“I am no hero.” Jon said. “And I have no woman, as you said I was a man of the night’s watch.”

“Now you’re a king. How did that happen? I thought those vows were for life.”

Jon saw that he was trapped. He wasn’t going to tell her the truth: that he’d died and come back to life. “There are more important things now.”

“Yes, the army of the dead. Every conversation comes back to that with you. No wonder so few of your men came with you. You have no conversational skills.”

Jon frowned. “Your brother is supposed to be the protector of the realm. Do you know the vows the men of the night’s watch take?”

Daenerys shook her head. So Jon recited it for her, skipping the trickier parts for him to explain, “Night gathers, and now my watch begins. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men.”

She applauded lightly. “Very nice, but your watch has ended. Otherwise, you’d be on the wall, not here.”

“I may not be in the watch anymore, but I still intend to protect the realm. If your brother wants to be king, he must do the same.”

“Viserys doesn’t listen to me.”

“You are a royal princess and his heir. You have more power than you think.”

She said nothing, but Jon could see she was thinking about his words. He thought about saying more, but he wasn’t good with words. It would probably be better to leave her while he was still ahead. “I have work to do.”

He walked away realizing he’d still learned nothing more about Daenerys Targaryen. But maybe he would see what kind of woman she was by how she took his words.

 

* * *

 

Daenerys watched the somber king walk away. She thought about what he’d said, but he was wrong. Viserys wouldn’t care about the threat. He didn’t care about anything but getting the Iron Throne. They could all be corpses, and as long he got to be the ruler of the corpses, he wouldn’t care. 

He wouldn’t listen to her.

But she had learned one important piece information. Despite his words, Jon Snow was a hero. She was glad. Heroes were easy to play.

Heroes wanted to save maidens from monsters. She hadn’t been a maid in years, but she could play one well enough. She would be the poor princess who needed to be saved from her cruel brother.

Men like Jon Snow appreciated honesty, she knew. She would seduce him with the truth.


	2. Caves are Dangerous Places

“What do you think of him? The king?” Ser Davos asked.

Jon looked over at his advisor, sitting at the small table in the king’s chambers. Jon was lying on his bed after another hard day of mining, an arm draped over his head. He closed his eyes again, “I keep thinking if I killed him, I could probably leave.”

“You can’t just kill a king. There would be consequences.”

“What consequences? Who would stop or punish me? His army of sellswords or his army of slaves? Do you think either of them would really care?”

“What about his sister and her dragons?”

Jon closed his eyes, Daenerys’ face appearing too fast behind his closed lids. “That’s the only reason I haven’t done it yet.”

“What do you think of her?” Davos asked.

Jon sighed. “I don’t know. She seems to have a good heart.”

Davos gave a light snort. “Yes, I’ve noticed you starring at her good heart.”

“There’s no time for that.”

“Lord Tyrion mentioned a possible marriage pact to me.”

Of course he did. Jon swung his legs over, forcing himself to sit up despite his exhaustion. “I saw the Night King, I looked into his eyes. I need to focus on that. I need to focus on the war that’s coming and defeating my enemy.”

Davos replied, “I’m not suggesting a three month honeymoon. It would be a simple wedding and one night to consummate it.” His eyebrow lifted, “And I hardly think it would be that much of a burden for you to bed Daenerys Targaryen.”

Jon stood up and began to pace. It wouldn’t be a burden. That’s what felt like the problem. It felt like selfishness. “Then what? I support Viserys’ claim to the throne? I will not send my men to fight for him.”

“You prefer Cersei then?”

“I don’t want either of them. That’s why I’m King in the North. They can both go to the Stranger. I will rule my people, and we will not bow to either of them.”

“But one of them will eventually sit on the Iron Throne, and you will need to ally yourself with the country to the south if you plan to keep the north independent.”

Jon stopped pacing, rubbing his head in an effort to stop the oncoming headache. “I probably need both their armies to stop the threat coming for us. I need an alliance with both the Targaryens and the Lannisters.”

Davos thought for a moment. “You could marry Cersei then.”

Jon grimaced at the thought. “Even if that could happen, I think the kingslayer would add another king to his list before I would have the chance to bed her.”

“So we’re back to Daenerys Targaryen.”

“If I marry her, then we’ll lose the Lannister support. They’ll see it as taking sides, and I just want to stay out of their war. It’s not important who wins the throne. Only the threat beyond the wall matters.”

Davos sighed, “Well, you’ve talked us into a circle, and we’re back to where we started with no alliances with any southern leaders.”

Jon sighed. He could fight any battle, understood the strategies and had the courage and skills to win. But politics, he had no gift for any of it. He didn’t know how to play this game. He thought for a moment before he asked, “We have a standing invitation to dine with the king and his people, correct?”

Davos nodded, but said, “I thought you didn’t want to go because you feared you’d kill the king if you spent too much time in his company.”

“At this point, I think killing King Viserys would solve more problems for me than it would cause. Daenerys would become queen, and while I don’t trust her, I think she would be far easier to negotiate with.” Jon nodded, “We’ll join them tomorrow night.”

 

* * *

 

Tyrion was surprised by the note, he expected the King in the North to keep away from the Targaryens as much as he could for his stay here. Yet, Jon Snow had sent word that he would be joining tonight’s feast. What could it mean? He tapped the paper against the table, letting the repetitive sound focus his thoughts. 

He doubted the King in the North had any hidden motivations. Jon Snow was after an alliance to beat the army of the dead. If he was attending a supper with them, he was doing it in an effort to gain this alliance.

Tyrion’s worries rested on his own king. He couldn’t very well ban Viserys from the dinner though that would really be the best option. The dragon king would do no good, he would only insult and infuriate Lord Snow. Daenerys would be better. Tyrion doubted that even her considerable skills would entice the northern lord into an alliance with them, but she would be smart enough not to push too hard. She would know when to back down and change tactics as to not completely lose Jon Snow.

Tyrion wished for a glass of wine and Varys. He could get the wine easily enough, but he liked to stay sober while the king drank himself stupid. That was the other problem, the king would most certainly be drunk at this feast with the King in the North and it always made him stupider. Varys might have been able to help Tyrion control the king better. But the spider had abandoned them when he realized how awful the king was, worse than Joffrey he’d announced before leaving. Tyrion wondered where the man was now.

Tyrion couldn’t disagree with his old friend. He’d kept hoping someone would rid him of this king like they had with Joffrey. But by some miracle, Viserys lived. Tyrion had been making plans of his own, secretly, silently, but it would be better if some outside force did it.

Tyrion wondered if Jon Snow would be the answer to that prayer. He knew it wouldn’t take much for the King in the North to kill the Dragon King. He already despised him. And if Daenerys was successful, she was right that one instance of her brother’s cruelty towards her would be enough to get Jon Snow to kill her abuser.

Tyrion never even considered that Viserys might be able to defeat Jon Snow. It wasn’t a possibility.

Still, this was a dangerous game. Westeros never looked kindly on kingslayers, no matter how awful the king and how honorable the slayer – his brother Jaime had proven that much. It would have been better if Viserys had died in Essos before they had sailed back to Westeros.

They had been close. Daario Naharis had been willing. But Tyrion had wanted time to fully consider it. Before he reached the conclusion that it would be best if Viserys died, Daario had been burned alive for the terrible crime of loving the king’s sister. Daenerys hadn’t appeared to react much to it, but Tyrion knew it had affected her deeply. She hadn’t loved the man, but he’d saved her from being raped by the Second Sons’ leaders, killing the other commanders before they had a chance, and entering into a relationship with a willing Daenerys afterwards.

A fact that Viserys Targaryen knew nothing of. Daenerys had kept it from her brother but told Tyrion not long after Daario’s death. The king had assumed everything had gone off without a hitch, not noticing that the new commanders looked different from the last ones, aside from Daario. He did notice the commanders followed Daenerys more than him, but Viserys took for granted that his sister would ever harm him. It was a secret that Tyrion intended to always keep a secret, even lying to Jon Snow about it.

Tyrion would not make the same mistake twice. Viserys Targaryen had to die. Sooner rather than later. He knew the Second Sons and the few Dothraki with them were more than willing to kill their king. Tyrion even suspected the Unsullied wouldn’t flinch at betraying their master. Tyrion kept trying to pressure Viserys into leading an attack to give his armies the chance to accidentally harm their king with friendly fire. But the cowardice of the king kept defeating that plan.

He’d considered poison or giving one of the slave girls that often warmed Viserys’ bed a blade, but Tyrion couldn’t know who to trust with such plots. If Varys was still with them, the king would have been gone already.

Of course the easiest way to be rid of him would have been for Daenerys to simply take the throne and declare him her enemy. But for reasons Tyrion didn’t understand, she refused to do so. Though Tyrion suspected her mercy only went so far concerning her brother. He doubted Viserys would ever be saved by Daenerys again. She hadn’t forgiven him for the death of Daario or Jorah Mormont before that.

Poor Jorah Mormont, Tyrion thought. The man had brought him into his queen’s service and had died for it. Tyrion had advised against it, of course, but Viserys didn’t listen. Not to him or to his sister’s pleadings. The old knight has accepted his death with the dignity any noble man would show. Tyrion would have left then if he’d had any other options for survival and if the princess hadn’t shown him that there was a possibility in the Targaryen line.

She had been the one to name him Hand, pinning the token to his chest rather than her brother. Viserys hadn’t stopped her, Tyrion had been there when she’d brought up naming him Hand. Viserys had agreed with a dismissive, “Fine. Whatever.”

Daenerys had had the pin made. There had been no ceremony, just a simple pinning, declaring him Hand to the new Targaryen dynasty.

She was the one he’d pledged to serve.

The woman he’d been thinking about entered the war room. She was pinning a braid. She noticed the room was empty save for her and the Hand. She sighed, “Viserys sleeping off his hangover?”

“I suspect so.”

“The commanders?”

“They arrived saw no king and left. They’ve learned he’s not worth waiting for.”

She nodded, but Tyrion noticed the hint of irritation in the twitch of her lip. She studied the painted table before them. “So what is our plan for winning this war?”

Tyrion glanced at the table, he no longer had any interest in the fight for the Iron Throne. “I was going to suggest a siege of King’s Landing.”

Daenerys shook her head. “Viserys won’t have the patience for that. You know that.”

Tyrion shrugged. Daenerys noticed the paper he still held. “What’s that?” she asked.

Tyrion held up the message. “Jon Snow is joining us for dinner. This evening.” He tossed the paper at her.

Daenerys sat across from him, legs folded, the very picture of a noble lady. She read the message. “His handwriting’s better than I expected.”

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. “Oh. Is good penmanship the way into our princess’ heart? I admit I never would have guessed.”

Daenerys didn’t look amused. “No man will ever win my heart. You know that better than most.”

Tyrion leaned back. “What are your plans for today?”

Daenerys eyes stayed on the note in her hand. “I was going to go for a walk near the caves, looking very lost little lamb.”

Tyrion nearly chuckled at the thought. “A piece of advice, if you want it.” Daenerys nodded. “The innocent ingénue isn’t going to work on him. Men of the north are tough; they like their women challenging and hard.”

“How would you know?” Daenerys’ focus was on Tyrion now. “I think I know more about men want than you.”

“Perhaps, but I understand the north better than you. I’ve visited its lands. I knew Jon Snow’s father and the woman his father married. I know what Lord Snow would see as a relationship he would want. He isn’t going to be interested in a demure maiden.”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out.” Daenerys stood up and left in a huff.

Tyrion chuckled. Sometimes it was easy to forget just how young the princess was. He knew Jon Snow wouldn’t care about whatever act she put on for him. But the fiery woman buried under so many constructed layers—that was a woman who could turn the young king’s head. If Daenerys showed her true self to the king, Tyrion would get his marriage and political alliance. He would get his noble king and queen on the Iron Throne. He just needed two young people to fall in love before the dragonglass in the mountain beneath Dragonstone was mined.

He was betting a lot on it.

 

* * *

 

Daenerys had carefully considered her outfit, wanting something flowing but not revealing. Plus she had to account for the cold bite in the air. She had settled on a fur wrap that sat on the edges of her shoulders over a velvet dress with leather leggings. 

This had been easier in Essos with its silk scarps of dresses.

But Daenerys Stormborn wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. She would get this rebellious lord where she wanted him, use him and then discard him when she was finished with him. Just like Xaro Xhoan Daxos and Hizdahr zo Loraq.

Though both of them had turned out to be worthless. Xaro Xhoan Daxos had never actually consummated the marriage, more interested in his beautiful male slaves than her, and broke except for the wealth he showed off. Viserys had been too angry to do anything but order they steal what they could. Daenerys had ordered her lying husband into his vault and sealed it behind him.

Hizdahr zo Loraq had tried to kill both her and her brother under the guise of the Harpies. Viserys had never learned the truth and had been furious when she’d sent the master’s head rolling without his consent. But he’d been pleased with the deal Tyrion had brokered with the masters that gave him his navy.

There was so little Viserys knew, but Daenerys knew it was for the best. She wished her brother would just stay in his bed chambers with his pleasure slaves and wine and leave the running of nations to her and his Hand. But no, the king had to have the glory, relished the power despite having no idea how to wield it.

Her brother was a fool, and she did her best to work around him.

Of course, she knew that Tyrion wanted her to surpass her brother and take her place as queen in his stead. But she didn’t want that. She didn’t want the responsibilities and sacrifices that came from being queen. The conversation she’d had with Ser Barristan about her mother still too well remembered.

Viserys had even suggested a marriage between them before, but she’d convinced him that she was barren and therefore an unworthy queen. She worked best as a means for alliances through marriage. She would bare her husbands no children, no threats to his power.

Maybe one of these fucking marriages would finally work out in her favor and she could abandon her brother once and for all. She couldn’t quite work past her guilt of destroying her own house for good to have a hand in his demise, but she was past the point of actively preventing it. Now she just didn’t want to get caught up in it. She didn’t want to die because of her brother and she wanted her dragon children safe.

Daenerys placed her thoughts and feelings aside. They had no business in her task with Jon Snow. She glanced down the beach to the cave where he was working. She hadn’t seen him come out yet, and was waiting to walk past when he emerged for fresh air. She was starting to get annoyed with how hard he seemed to be working. Most of the men had taken a couple breaks since she’d started watching, but there had been no sign of the king she was after.

Did he not understand that there were privileges to being royalty?

She waited with a patience that wasn’t natural for her, growing more annoyed the longer she sat and watched for a glimpse of the man she needed. She leaned back reaching out to her dragons, their presence settling her. They were out hunting now, just like their mother.

Finally Jon Snow walked out. Daenerys felt her breath catch at the sight of him. She couldn’t deny she felt an attraction towards the pretty man. He was hard-headed but easy enough to look at.

Daenerys stood, letting her eyes brighten with unshed tears. She began walking as though not paying attention to where she was heading, but made sure she was close enough that the king wouldn’t be able to miss her. His eyes found her quickly.

“Your highness,” Jon nodded at her. “I was hoping to run into you.”

Daenerys was caught off guard by that. She hadn’t expected him to want to see her. She kept her voice quiet, as if surprised he would even be talking to her, “Oh? What for?”

“There’s something I would like to show you.” He indicated to the cave. “We were just about to hack everything apart, so I’m glad you get a chance to see it first.”

Daenerys held in a smile. This was going better than she could have imagined. He wanted her to take her somewhere isolated. She nodded, with twitching eyes, as if worried that she might not be safe with him.

She knew she would be though. This man was too honorable to harm her. And she was hoping to provoke him into taking advantage of her.

He picked up on her false worry though. “You may bring a guard if you wish.”

“No,” she responded too quickly. Then pretended to mask her mistake with a much softer. “I mean, no, I trust I will be fine with you, Lord Snow.” She looked up at him through lowered lashes, as if too shy to directly meet his gaze.

Jon’s eyes narrowed at her. Daenerys knew the northerner was smart enough to not trust her, but knew she could still play on his lust for her and his need to protect anyone he saw as an innocent. He nodded tightly, grabbing a torch and leading her into the caverns.

Daenerys felt the stares of the north men Jon had brought with him as she passed them and their work. Most of them stared at her beauty, slightly slack-jawed and lust filled. It was common enough reaction for Daenerys to deal with, especially as these men had never seen her before. They went back to work at the glare of their king. Only Davos looked at her differently, his eyes darted between his king and the princess, as if figuring a difficult math problem and not liking the solution he came to.

Daenerys followed Jon Snow a step too closely than was appropriate. When the opportunity presented itself, she tripped over an uneven step. Before she could crash on the cave floor, Jon caught her.

His face was tight as he straightened her. She ducked her head shyly, “Sorry, thank you.”

He nodded and continued to lead her past their mining. The dragon glass was pretty, but clearly that wasn’t what he was aiming to show her.

The path they’d been following opened to a massive cavern and Daenerys didn’t have to fake her awe at the sight. The king used his torch to light the iron basket being used to light the room. Her eyes caught the drawings, simple yet so wondrous.

As a child, Daenerys had loved reading histories, had loved connecting with the past. Standing in this room was like a dream come true to the little girl she’d once been.

Jon interrupted her thoughts, “The children of the forest made these.”

Daenerys remembered herself. She was no longer a child. Yes the drawings were fascinating, but she had a job to do. She was here with this man for a reason. Still, she kept the look of wonder on her face, “They were right here. Standing where we’re standing. Before there were Targaryens or Starks or Lannisters. Maybe even before there were men.”

“No.” He guided her in further. Showing her another set of drawings. No longer abstract shapes but actual figures now. ”They were here together. The children and the first men.”

Daenerys reached out to trace the lines of the ancient drawing. “Doing what? Fighting each other?”

He surprised her by taking her wrist. She hadn’t expected him to initiate any of their physical contact. Perhaps this would be easier than she’d thought it was going to be. “They fought together against their common enemy.” The light showed men of ice. The white walkers this king had kept prattling about. “Despite their differences. Despite their suspicions. Together. We need to do the same if we’re going to survive. Because the enemy is real. It’s always been real.”

Daenerys wasn’t sure if she believed him. Tyrion had told her that Starks like the one before her were honest to a fault, but she knew better. Men lied when it suited them. Maybe he was just trying to lure her brother into a trap up north to kill him.

Then again, did she really care?

She did. Because she would be going up north with him. Along with her children. She would not see any harm come to them. Viserys had always said that the northmen were half a step away from barbarians. Not that Daenerys believed him, but there must be some truth to it. She looked into Jon Snow’s dark eyes, which were studying her intently.

“What would you have me do?” She asked with a wispy voice.

Jon Snow frowned. “I need you and your brother’s support. I need your dragons. Fire kills the White Walkers. It cannot be coincidence that your dragons appeared on our shores when our need for them is greatest. I need them to beat the enemy coming for us all.”

She backed up to the wall, shrinking herself down to look small and fragile. “And what do you plan to give me for use of my dragons, Lord Snow?”

Jon’s eyes narrowed. He took a step forward. “What is it that you want from me?”

“My brother wants the throne.”

Jon looked annoyed. “I know that, but what do you want?”

Daenerys smiled, a shy yet seductive thing, her fingers dancing over his sleeve. “I think you know what I want, Lord Snow.”

He deliberately ignored her meaning. “No, I don’t know what it is you want.”

Her hands moved to his chest, despite his hard, angry face, his heart was beating fast. She smiled, licking her lips, her eyes meeting his in the torchlight. “Oh, I think you do.”

His hands grabbed hers. “I know what you’re doing. Stop it.”

“What?” Daenerys was the picture of innocence as she slipped her hands from his, so that she could continue her teasing. This close, she could see that his pupils had nearly overtaken his irises.

He was so close to snapping. “I’m not going to fall for such tricks. Stop it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her hands drifted to his lower stomach and that did it. He snapped.

He pushed her against the wall, his free arm pinning her as the other held the torch. It wasn’t rough or violent, but she could tell how tightly his muscles were coiled. Just how much effort he was putting into holding back. “I am not the northern fool you think I am,” he growled.

Daenerys didn’t back down. Her lips whispered against his ear, “Yet we both know if I wrapped my leg around you and pulled you in, you’d be hard against me. You’re just barely stopping yourself from lifting my skirts and taking me right now.”

“But I am stopping myself. I will not abandon my duty for a quick fuck in a cave.” Something interesting flashed in his eyes, but Daenerys couldn’t quite define it. Regret or embarrassment? Was he lying?

He dropped his arm and stepped back, putting an appropriate distance between them again. “You won’t seduce me into following your brother. I have a duty to the north and my people, and nothing will turn me away from that.”

She laughed, a biting one, “You really are the white wolf, pure as the snow you’re named for.” Her eyes met his, both pairs still dilated. “But I can see the animal that lurks beneath all of that nobility.”

Jon took a step forward. “Yes, I am the white wolf, and you are the black dragon. Tell me Daenerys, do you really want this? Do you like being your brother’s tool in his quest for the throne?”

Daenerys nearly snarled at his words, hating the scorn in them. “You’re not the only one who follows their duty at any cost, Jon Snow.” She walked towards him, but without the exaggerated hip sway she had always used around him. Not now. Now she walked like the royal she was. “My mother, Rhaella, did her duty as well. She married a man she didn’t love. As her husband and brother lost his mind, she stood beside him. My father would burn men alive and then rape his wife in his excitement. She took every nasty hit he inflicted on her so that her child was protected from the Mad King. Viserys never even knew what kind of monster our father was because of our mother. Still won’t hear of it. I will do the same as her. I will take every hit my brother has in him to prevent it from landing on a slave. Because I can take it. Viserys isn’t strong enough to break me. I can take his cruelty and will take it if it prevents his wrath from landing on my people.”

She could feel how tight her jaw had gotten, could see the northern king’s wide eyes. Daenerys blinked, taking a step back now. She hadn’t meant to be that honest, hadn’t meant to reveal that much. She forced the feeling of vulnerability down, adapting a neutral tone. “We should return, Lord Snow. We wouldn’t want to be missed.”

He nodded, his eyes not leaving her. Daenerys could see the storm brewing in them, but it didn’t please her the way it should have. It just confused her. This wasn’t part of any plan. She had vowed never to feel anything for anyone ever again, yet here stood the King of the North, making her heart lurch in uncomfortable ways. In a way she hardly recognized.

She didn’t look at him, walking out of the cave without looking back. She would never look at him again if she could help it. He was far too dangerous. She hadn’t seen it before, but she did now. If they married as Tyrion wanted, it would be political and loveless. It had to be. Just like all of her marriages had been.

Drogo flashed in her mind, but she pushed the thought of her sun and stars away.

She wouldn’t sleep with Jon Snow. Viserys would just have to deal with the fact that she couldn’t seduce this man.

 

* * *

 

Viserys was frustrated by the lack of progress in his war to reconquer Westeros. When his sister had convinced him to name Tyrion his Hand, she had assured the king that the Lannister would do all the heavy lifting, allowing him the easy life he’d been denied when the usurper stole his crown. Much like the last Lannister hand had done for his own father.

Now the dwarf showed just how worthless he was, his stunted growth reflecting his stunted mind. “So yet another of your plans falls apart, dwarf. Tell me, why do I keep you around?”

Tyrion’s tight jaw shifted. Viserys didn’t give his Hand a chance to answer, “We should just burn down King’s Landing, like I said from the start.”

“You’d kill a million people if you do that. No one in Westeros follow you after such an act.”

“Of course they would. They would fear me,” snarled Viserys. He needed a better Hand. Or maybe he didn’t need a Hand at all. The idea appealed to him. “Just like Aegon before me, burning down Harrenhal.”

“Aegon didn’t conquer all of Westeros. Dorne never fell to him.”

“Then I will surpass him. Viserys the Conqueror. Westeros will tremble before me and all of its people will fall to their knees before me.”

Tyrion took a deep breath. “You are still going to need allies to rule your kingdom. Allies like the potential one currently on this island. Right now. Who you’ve done nothing but insult and threaten to kill since he got here.”

Viserys waved a hand, dismissing the rebellious lord. “He’s nothing more than a dog. I don’t barter with dogs; I command them.”

“He is. He is a dog. Dogs are loyal and fearsome creatures, but to get them that way, you need to give him a bone and treat him nicely.”

Viserys smirked. This dwarf always thought himself so clever, “I’m three steps ahead of you. My dear sister is seeing to the dog as we speak.” His lips curled. “She’ll give him a bone, all right.”

That surprised the imp. “You don’t say? Daenerys is doing what exactly?”

Of course his Hand hadn’t picked up on his clever innuendo, he spoke more plainly, “Seducing the man, of course.” Viserys didn’t understand why his sister listened to this creature so much, kept insisting he was clever. He was clearly a half-wit. Viserys was growing bored with this conversation, he just wanted his throne. Just wanted what was his by right. What had been denied to him since his birth. What he’d spent years chasing after. He thought it would be easy once he got to the Westerosi shore.

Unfortunately he was surrounded by idiots.

His sister entered the room, looking down like the scared mouse she was. Viserys smiled at the sight of her though, “Perfect timing, dear sister.” He crossed the room to kiss her forehead. “Tell me, how did you make that northern dog beg? Did he take you like a dog or did he attempt to act as a man?”

“I cannot do it. He won’t be seduced.”

Viserys took a moment to process her words. Then the anger set in. Why could nothing go right for him? He’d had only seven short years as a prince then he’d been made king and forced to flee for his own safety. Because his enemy was vicious, vicious enough to stab his niece in her bed and smash his nephew’s head against the wall.

“Useless,” Viserys spat. “Rhaegar had had the Sword of the Morning for his best friend and closest advisor. And what do I have? A stupid little girl I must protect and whose behavior I must excuse at every turn. And an imp whose own family cast him out. I am expected to do more than my brother with less at my disposal.”

Daenerys kept her head down. The dwarf’s look was impartial. She said, “The people still sing of our brother’s glories. Yours shall be greater.”

Viserys smiled at the thought. That was true. He would surpass his brother in every way. He would surpass every Targaryen that had come before him. Hadn’t he been the one to bring back dragons? Hadn’t he been the first dragon rider in centuries?

“Give me one more chance,” his sister begged. “Lord Snow is planning to come to attend our dinner tonight.”

Viserys’ brow furrowed. He hadn’t heard that. “Is he?” He looked to the dwarf who was studying his sister.

“Yes, let me host him.” Daenerys broke into his musings. “He will be susceptible to my charms with the influence of wine and ale.”

“I should be there too. To be sure you don’t mess it up once again.”

“No brother, your glory would distract him. Make him feel like the false king he is. I need him to feel confident. Like he is worthy of a Targaryen princess.”

Viserys thought on it. His sister’s words made sense. He nodded. He thought of that gorgeous Naath woman he’d bought in Meereen. She had proved to be a good bed partner. His night would be better spent in her company and a bottle of Dornish red. He glared at his Hand. “Win this war for me. No more excuses.”

The short man gave a little bow. It was comical to see and Viserys had to hold in his laughter. He left before either of them had a chance to anger him again.

 

* * *

 

“Masterfully played, your majesty,” Tyrion complimented.

Daenerys closed her eyes against the compliment. It had been a lie. She would never be able to get Jon Snow into her bed, even with the aid of alcohol, she was just delaying the inventible. She’d put herself directly into his path after just swearing off ever seeing him again. She was a complete fool. “See to the dinner arrangements, my lord.”

Tyrion nodded and went off to see to his duty. Daenerys retired to her chambers. Once the door closed behind her, she fell to the floor, crying. 

The sound drew in Missandei. The girl was a slave, but still Daenerys best friend. Missandei’s arms wrapped around Daenerys.

“I don’t know what this King in the North wants,” she said. But really it was his question that kept circling in her mind. What did she want? She didn’t even know anymore. She didn’t want to help her brother, but what other choice did she have? He was the only family she had, and she had to protect their people from him.

Many would die and suffer under his rule, but even more would without her there to limit his damage. She had a role to play. She had a duty to her people. She would do it as best she could.

Missandei’s thumbs brushed away her mistress’ tears. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. You will find a way. No man has ever been able to resist you for long.”

Daenerys attempted a small smile at her friend’s comfort. “I wish you weren’t my slave. I hate slavery. We should have put a stop to it.”

“You cannot change the world, khaleesi.”

“I have three large dragons. I can do whatever I want.”

Daenerys hated the words that came from her mouth. They sounded like Viserys. Plus, they were just another lie. She was just as enslaved as Missandei.

She stood. “Help me dress.”

 

* * *

 

Jon wasn’t sure what he thought he would accomplish by sharing a meal with Targaryens. This wasn’t getting him any closer to getting the alliance he needed. He kept glancing at the princess, who refused to look at him. The king wasn’t even here, which would have been a good thing, except for the fact he didn’t want to look at the princess either, let alone talk with her. 

He never should have brought her into that cave. Never should have been alone with her for any amount of time. He definitely should have had more self-control. He may not have given into her, but he had wanted to.

Gods, how he had wanted to.

He had another glass of wine, ignoring Ser Davos disapproving look. Jon knew he would struggle to get through this sober.

Tyrion came over to sit next to him, “Hello bastard.”

The side of Jon’s mouth lifted, “Dwarf.” Jon lifted his cup in a toast.

The Hand smiled in return, lifting his own chalice. “How are you enjoying yourself? This is the first time you’ve accepted our invitation to sup together.”

Jon’s eyes glanced to the head of the table. “I thought the king would be here.”

Tyrion’s eyes followed his. “No, he isn’t here. But the princess is far better to look at, don’t you agree?”

Jon felt his cheeks warm. He blamed it on the alcohol. He said nothing in response. Tyrion’s attention shifted. “Ser Davos, you met the crown prince once, correct?” Tyrion looked over to the princess who was clearly paying attention now. “I’m sure our princess would love to hear the tale of how you met her brother.”

Davos shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. “I did not meet him proper.” His eyes looked to the princess. “Prince Rhaegar sometimes visited Flea Bottom. He would sing to the people.”

“Please, tell us, Ser Davos,” Daenerys voice was softer than usual. Jon almost didn’t recognize it. He wondered if it was closer to her true voice. He saw a small smile, one that looked sincere. “Ser Barristan once told me about it, but I would love to hear another point of view.”

Jon looked to Davos, whose eyes met his, as if asking permission. Jon nodded. Perhaps Davos could start the dialogue to alliance where Jon could not. Davos said, “He tried to disguise himself, hid his hair, but we could all tell. Royals hold themselves differently. He had a good voice. Played well too. Most everyone stopped to listen, myself included. Heard three songs before remembering myself. If he’d been born in Flea Bottom instead of the palace, he probably would have lived well as a musician. Probably been good enough to end up in the palace anyway as a court musician.”

Daenerys looked at her wine. “He might have been happier with that life, from what I’ve heard told of him.” Her eyes met Jon’s. “What about you, Lord Snow? Any good tales from your time at the Wall to entertain us?”

He wanted to protest, tell her that he wasn’t there for her entertainment. He was there in an effort to protect the realm. The one her brother was so desperate to rule. But he realized that this was his chance to do both. “Yes, I once sailed to Hardhome to rescue wildlings. They are a stubborn people and didn’t want the help of a crow, but I eventually convinced most of them to board the ships I brought. But as we readied to leave an unnatural fog descended, one full of cold and death. A great wall surrounded Hardhome but it wasn’t enough to keep out the dead. They overwhelmed us in minutes. Thousands were able to make it to the ships, but thousands more died. I watched the Night King as I sailed away, watched as he lifted his arms and added the thousands left behind dead to his ranks.”

Daenerys swallowed before answering. “A good tale, a bit unbelievable though.”

“I have no gift for imagination, your majesty. It’s true. You know it’s true.”

Daenerys frowned and opened her mouth before a noise cut her off. The doors opening. Her brother stepped in, a giggling girl hanging off of him. Jon stiffened. He was back to wishing the king gone again. He felt like he might have gotten to Daenerys, at least gotten her to consider the possibility that he wasn’t lying. That what had happened to him was real. That the danger he kept warning them about was coming for them all.

Viserys stumbling in, clearly in his cups and finishing what probably wasn’t his first bottle, had ruined all of that. Jon could practically see Daenerys’ walls coming down. He thought he might be getting to the point where he understood her better now. He remembered the tales his father had told him about the Mad King. Jon didn’t think Daenerys took after her father but her brother clearly did.

What must have it been like to live your life with someone like that? Jon didn’t like dishonesty, but he understood why Daenerys might learn to hide her true feelings from her unpredictable brother. Learned how to manipulate and play the game, and all the other tricks Jon hated, but could understand why a princess might be forced to learn.

What had Sansa once told him – in the game of thrones you win or die.

Jon felt a wave of sympathy for the princess, but he pushed it down as soon as he felt it. He shouldn’t feel anything for the princess. He was here to rally the Targaryens to his cause, nothing else.

He watched the king stumble to his chair, noticed how nervous Daenerys and Tyrion were now. They kept glancing at him. Viserys grinned, picking a new full goblet of wine, the slave girl sitting in his lap, playing with his collar. He signaled to the band to keep playing. “Now the feast can really start,” he announced.

Jon glanced to Davos. They exchanged a look of worry. Viserys licked the side of his slave’s neck, causing Jon’s neck to burn. He was unused to such lewd public acts. He supposed he should be over it following his time with the Free Folk, but seven hells, Mance Ryder hadn’t licked his lover’s neck in public. It was just the young and in love that had been so careless.

Like he’d once been.

Before he could dwell too much on it, Viserys’ voice cut through. “Tell me, sweet sister. What were you talking about with our guest before I came in?”

“He was telling me all about his _White Walkers_ ,” Daenerys replied. Her tone making it clear she still thought his tale was nonsense.

Viserys laughed into his mug. “Tell me then, I could use a bit of amusement.”

Jon repeated his tale. Daenerys stayed silently, holding her goblet of wine appearing deep in thought. The king outright laughed at him. Jon could feel himself burning at the insult, but it didn’t matter, his pride wasn’t important against the enemy they faced.

But Ser Davos stood. “You don’t believe him. I understand that. It sounds like nonsense. But if destiny has brought the Targaryens back to our shores, it has also made Jon Snow King in the North. You were the first to bring Dothraki to Westeros. He is the first to make allies of wildings and north men. He was named Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch; he was named King in the North. Not because of his birthright. He has no birthright. He’s a damn bastard. All those hard sons of bitches chose him as their leader because they believe in him. All those things you don’t believe in, he faced those things, he fought those things for the good of his people, he risked his life for his people, he took a knife in the heart for his people, he gave his own…”

Jon’s look cut him off. Too much, he tried to tell his Hand. Daenerys was looking at him hard now. Jon couldn’t read her look though. The king on the other hand, still looked amused. He mocked a toast to Jon. “I’ll give you this, Lord Snow. You have loyalty from your men.” He took a drink. Then held his cup out for a refill. “Though I guess I should expect as much from a dog. I find loyalty too fickle a thing though. The whole of Westeros was loyal to my family for generations, but look at us now. I find gold to be a far superior motivator.”

Jon watched Davos sit back down. They exchanged another look.

It was going to be a long night.

 

* * *

 

Daenerys hadn’t relaxed since her brother had entered the hall. Her mind kept drifting back to Jon Snow’s tale. It was terrifying. And it probably was true, she had to admit, Jon had no talent for lying. It made her blood run cold. 

She glanced over to her brother, who’d acquired a second slave on his lap. Her brother wouldn’t believe Jon Snow, no matter what proof he might bring forward. Her brother was a fool who only cared about his throne. Daenerys looked over to the sullen lord, who looked as miserable as she felt. She wanted to help this northerner, but she didn’t want to wake the dragon within her brother in doing so.

Then again, so what if she did trigger her brother’s wrath? What was he without her dragons or army? A brat playing in a game he didn’t have the skill to win. If it hadn’t been for those surrounding him, he would have been dead years ago.

But she looked to Tyrion, thought of Missandei. She couldn’t leave them behind. She couldn’t leave any of them behind to face her brother’s fury alone, without her protection.

She sighed. She couldn’t help Jon Snow. Even if the end of the world was coming for them all, he would face it alone, it seemed. She hoped he could win with what he had.

But then, her mind asked, if he didn’t need help why was he here asking for it? He never would have come if it hadn’t been necessary. He knew he could die coming here. He knew what had happened to his grandfather and uncle when her father had summoned them. Jon Snow had no reason to expect a different outcome from the summons of Viserys Targaryen.

The thoughts made Daenerys drain her cup and signal for a new one. She didn’t want to think about the monsters behind the wall. Just like she didn’t want to think about the monsters competing for the Iron Throne.

She was sick of dealing with monsters. She just wanted to return to a house with a red door and lemon trees, just wanted to rest, plant trees and watch them grow.

But she was a dragon. Dragons didn’t plant trees. They burned them.

She felt the warmth of the wine as it went down her throat. She heard her brother talking, but most of it was his usual nonsense about how great he was and how the people of Westeros celebrated his return.

If they were so happy for his return, Daenerys thought, then where the hells were they? Why was the North in open rebellion? Why did they have to fight so hard if the people of Westeros actually gave a damn about Viserys Targaryen?

Daenerys had seen enough of the people of Westeros to know they didn’t care who sat on the Iron Throne. They just wanted to get through their lives. The more hopeful ones might wish for a less shitty world.

If Daenerys ruled, that’s what she would try to give them. She would try to make the world a better place than when she found it. She would be a much better queen than Cersei Lannister. She would be a better ruler than her brother.

“Don’t you think, Lord Snow?” Viserys question interrupted Daenerys’ treasonous thoughts. Daenerys looked to Tyrion, wondering what she’d missed. Tyrion couldn’t explain, but she saw the worry on his face clearly enough.

She looked to Jon Snow, whose face was tight. He responded to Viserys question, “I wouldn’t know, your grace. I’ve never fought one of your men. Never seen them in the battlefield myself.”

Her brother stood, clapping his hands on the table as his chair flew back. “Then we will show them, yes? We will show these savages how real Westerosi men fight.”

Daenerys hated that Viserys referred to their own men as savages. How did he expect them to follow them when he treated with such distain? When she confronted him about it, he dismissed her concerns as they didn’t speak the common tongue and didn’t know what he said.

But the Dothraki and Unsullied weren’t idiots. They picked up on more of the common tongue than Daenerys thought her brother realized. She even knew one of the Unsullied squad leaders was fluent, having spent time with Missandei. She looked to Tyrion who rushed over to her, “What is going on?”

“Your brother wants to fight Jon Snow. To show these savages a proper Westerosi sword fight, were his exact words, I think.” Tyrion took a long drink from his cup.

Daenerys’ eyes widened. “Jon Snow will kill him. Viserys doesn’t know how to fight,” she said in a harsh whisper.

Tyrion shrugged, not looking too concerned about it. Daenerys ignored him, going over to her brother who was fetching his sword. He unsheathed it, and Daenerys stepped back at the sight of it in his hand. She said, “Viserys, don’t do this. You’re drunk and not thinking clearly.”

“Oh sister, you worry too much.” He patted her head. “Just like a woman. Let the men be men. I will put this little northern whelp in his place. I am a dragon.”

“He is the son of a northern lord. He’s probably had a sword in his hand since he was a boy. You have never received any sword training. Not since Daario tried and you decided that a king didn’t need to know how to wield a sword. Just command men that did.”

“You don’t say his name in my presence, Dany,” Viserys growled. Daenerys stepped back, not liking the look in her brother’s eyes and weary of the sword in his hand. She didn’t want to think of Daario either. She could only remember his screams of agony now.

Daenerys returned to her seat, watching her brother make his way in front of their table. “Come on then, Jon Snow.”

Daenerys tried once more to stop this madness, “Brother, I would rather see our northern guest take on one of our bloodriders. That would settle your point much better.”

“No. I will fight him. I will put this northern dog in his place.”

Jon stood. “I cannot fight, your grace. You took away my sword.”

“Give him one,” Viserys instructed one of his sellswords. The man reluctantly placed his sword before Jon Snow.

Jon picked it up and looked to the king. “This is a short sword. I, like most men in Westeros, use a long sword.”

“What does it matter? They are all the same thing.”

“No, they are different weapons.” Jon Snow explained as he would to a child. “I haven’t trained with one of these since I was a boy.”

“Stop stalling, let’s fight,” Viserys replied with the patience of a child.

Jon turned to Ser Davos, leaning over. Daenerys couldn’t hear their conversation, but she guessed it was about whether or not it would be better to let Viserys win.

When decided, Jon picked up the short sword. Already Daenerys could see the difference in the two kings. Viserys held his blade like it was a toy whereas Jon treated his weapon as an extension of himself. It looked natural in his hand, like it was meant to be there.

Daenerys breath caught. She wasn’t sure how she wanted this fight to go, but she knew no matter the outcome, it wouldn’t end well. She looked to Tyrion again, desperate for him to stop this. But the Hand merely watched the kings with interest.

Daenerys turned her attention back to the men who were circling each other. Jon spun the sword in his hand, as if he were getting a feeling for it. Viserys attempted to copy the movement, but it looked jerky and unpracticed. Deanerys saw her brother flush red at his failure.

This would not end well.

Viserys made the first move, slashing at Jon Snow with a yell. Jon side-stepped him easily. Viserys tried again and failed once more. The third time, Jon blocked his wild movement. Then he went on the offensive.

One hit and Viserys' sword was knocked out of his hand. Daenerys saw the panic in her brother’s expression, but Jon stayed focused. He swept a leg and her brother tumbled to the floor. Jon pointed the sword at Viserys’ throat.

Daenerys looked up to see the Unsullied unsheathe their weapons. She held up a hand to signal them to hold, even though she knew her brother might overrule that command. The two kings stared each other down for a moment, before Jon let up. He walked away, handing the sword back to his owner.

As soon as Viserys stood, he screeched, “You cheated!”

Jon turned, looking both bored and furious, “How did I cheat?”

Viserys, still drunk and too angry to think clearly merely said, “You cannot defeat a king.”

“I am a king,” Jon said, his voice finally rising.

Daenerys thought wildly, her eyes darting back and forth. She knew Viserys wouldn’t like being humiliated, knew it triggered his worst behaviors. She tried desperately to think of a way to deescalate this situation.

One of the bloodriders who guarded her, spoke to her in Dothraki.

It caught Viserys’ attention and he whipped around to her. “What did he say? What is he saying?”

Daenerys saw the look of confusion on Jon Snow’s face. She had to agree. It was practically criminal that her brother never bothered to learn the language of part of his force. Relied completely on her and Missandei’s translations. She tried to signal to Jon to stay quiet. This distraction may be for the best.

“He says that you should cut your braid. You’ve been defeated.”

Viserys snorted. “I don’t follow their barbarian customs.”

Daenerys replied to her bloodrider in Dothraki, “The king says it was a play fight. It doesn’t count.”

She could see the Dothraki wasn’t convinced. His eyes connected with the King in the North. “We should be following the warrior king, khaleesi. He is strong.”

“What did he say?” Viserys asked again.

Daenerys didn’t want to translate that and struggled to come up with a lie. Luckily, Missandei saved her. “He said that Lord Snow is a good warrior. That we should join forces with him.”

Daenerys smiled at her clever friend, grateful for the save.

Though unfortunately it drew Viserys’ attention back to the King in the North. Daenerys spoke up before her brother could speak, “Even a mouse can fell an elephant. He simply got lucky. It means nothing, dear brother.” She took a drink of wine.

Her brother smiled at her words, an awful smile she recognized and feared. “He struck his king. This lord should be punished.”

She saw Jon Snow tighten. Daenerys stood, rushing around the table to join her brother. Daenerys waved her hand dismissively at Jon. “Dear brother, you shouldn’t respond to such dirty tricks as employed by this false king. It only gives his actions weight they do not deserve. Let him instead live with the shame of knowing how his tricks didn’t fool his true king. Let him live knowing he only lives by your grace and mercy. A gift he doesn’t deserve but will owe you for the rest of his days.”

Viserys cupped her cheek. “Oh sweet sister, I’m not going to kill him.” He looked to the Unsullied who grabbed Jon’s arms. Jon was stronger than the men who held him down, but their numbers and perfect discipline kept him in line. Viserys ordered, “Have him whipped. Ten lashes.”

Daenerys’ eyes widened. That would not be good. He shouldn’t leave marks. The north would not stand for such an insult. “No, Viserys, listen to me.”

“I’ve listened to you enough,” Viserys growled. “He’s a rebellious lord, who undermines my authority. He has proven himself my enemy like his father before him.”

“Viserys, we need the north. We need this alliance. Doing this won’t help anything. You know that. Show him mercy. Please.”

“Very well, sister,” Viserys’ voice was strangely calm. It worried Daenerys. Viserys was always calmest when he was at his cruelest. He commanded, “Show the lord to his chamber.” The Unsullied moved to obey, shuffling Ser Davos out as well.

But before the doors could close behind them to be sure they could hear him, Viserys turned to Daenerys. He said, “Your insolence must be punished as well. You can take Lord Snow’s lashes since you seem so eager to stand up for him. 20 lashes to remind her of her place.”

Daenerys didn’t see Lord Snow’s reaction to these words, but based on the yelling she heard shortly after, she guessed it wasn’t good. She put up no fight, accepting the punishment without complaint. She didn’t even protest as the back of her dress was ripped off of her.

Each lash stung. The man who did this for Viserys was one of the Second Sons, a nasty piece of work known as Burntblade. He waited just long enough between lashes so that Daenerys felt every mark. Her eyes welled, but she refused to cry. Refused to break. She could do this. She was blood of the dragon. Nothing her brother could do could harm her.

When it was finished, Viserys stepped in close, clearly satisfied with the previous violence against her, he kissed her cheek and whispered against her ear. “You may be my heir, but I am the king. You’re no one compared to me. Always remember that, Dany.” He kissed her lips, lingering too long.

Daenerys wanted to bite him, but instead just glared at him, replying, “You should consider getting a new whip master, dear brother.” She stood tall, clinging onto her ruined dress to cover herself. “This one hits like a little girl. I barely felt a thing.”

 

* * *

 

Jon wanted to destroy something, wanted to kill someone. He hated this feeling in him. Hated how out of control he could get in his anger. Hated how dark his moods could become. He strode away from his chambers as soon as he was able to escape, nearly running outside, hoping the fresh air would clear his head. He didn’t know how to handle any of this. 

His honor demanded he not stand aside while this vicious mad king beat his sister, but as a king, he couldn’t throw away an alliance he desperately needed.

But he wouldn’t ally his people to this monster. His father had fought in a war to free them from one such king, Jon would not bow to another.

He wished he knew what the right choice was. He thought about the last time he’d had a hard decision. He remembered the words Aemon had given him, “Kill the boy. Let the man be born.”

That boy had died. Bleed out in the snow, betrayed by his brothers. But the man wasn’t proving to be much wiser or better. Jon walked, letting his thoughts wander, the problem with the dragon king circling in his head, but no real solution presenting itself other than killing the little shit and being done with it.

He hadn’t noticed where he was, hadn’t paid any attention to where he was heading. But he noticed now that he was at the cliffs where the dragons often slept.

He wondered why his feet had taken him here, but he knew the answer in an instant. Her pale hair reflected like silk moonbeams in the slight light provided by the night’s sky. Her dragon behind her, as if watching her carefully, maybe even guarding her.

He saw Princess Daenerys on the edge of a cliff. He worried at the sight, remembering too many stories of upset maidens throwing themselves off cliffs in their despair.

Daenerys was no maiden, Jon knew, but seeing just a glimpse of her life made him think she was quite familiar with the kind of sorrow that caused some to choose death.

He approached carefully, weary of the massive black dragon that could kill him before he’d even have a chance to defend himself. The dragon’s eyes turned towards him, noticing him before the princess did. The dragon’s spines raised and rattled, and it took a step towards him.

Jon knew almost nothing about dragons. He’d read the tales like every other Westerosi child, but there was no actual information about how to act around a dragon in them. But he knew how to act with a fearsome creature, had one beside him most of the time.

Suddenly he missed Ghost, wished he’d brought his direwolf with him instead of leaving him behind to guard Sansa.

He pushed that feeling aside, keeping his feet planted, standing his ground. Fearsome creatures never showed respect to those that showed fear. Fear meant prey. Jon took off a glove, holding out to the dragon’s approaching snout.

If he died here, at least he could say he’d touched a legend. He could think of worse ways to go.

He didn’t know if dragons even had a sense of smell or used it, but he decided it would be worth the risk. The dragon growled at him, but kept his mouth closed, not threatening Jon further. Jon’s hand reached out to touch the leathery skin. It was hot to the touch despite the coolness of the air around them. Jon felt a pull not unlike the one he felt with Ghost.

He wondered what that meant. Why he would feel that with a dragon?

The dragon’s neck swung away from him, turning back to his mother. That’s when Jon saw Daenerys, who was staring at him. She seemed in awe of him. Jon felt something stir in him at such a look from such a woman. It was something deeper than the lust he’d felt with her in that cave.

The dragon took off as Daenerys approached, and Jon put his glove back on. It was still chilly out here. He saw that Daenerys was only dressed in a robe, one that was open enough that the fabric fell off one of her shoulders.

She was so beautiful. He kept hoping seeing her would lessen the impact of her loveliness, but instead he only noticed it more each time. She stood next to him, looking up at her dragons. “They’re beautiful aren’t they?”

At first Jon didn’t know what she meant, feared he’d just got caught staring at her. But then he followed her eyes. He nearly chuckled. “Not the word I would use,” her glare made him stop talking. He corrected himself immediately. “But aye, they are. Gorgeous beasts.”

“They aren’t beasts to me.” She spoke of dragons the way a mother might speak of her grown children. With pride and fondness. Jon’s eyes didn’t leave her. She was so lovely. He wanted her so much. Not just because of her looks. He was beginning to get a true measure of her now. She was brave and fearsome. She had a good heart and protective nature. This was a queen he would follow. A monarch he would bow to. Not Viserys or Cersei, but Daenerys Targaryen. She should sit on the Iron Throne. He would fight for her.

He blinked and forced his eyes away from her. Where had that thought come from? The Iron Throne didn’t matter. His fight with the dead was all that mattered. He saw a red mark on her shoulder. “Why did you do that for me? Why protect me?”

Daenerys pulled her sleeve up, covering her skin and pulling her robe tight. “I told you already.” She began to walk away from him, but Jon kept pace with her.

“I am not your subject, and I am no slave. I can look after myself.”

Daenerys stopped, her brow furrowed. “Ser Davos said that you took a knife in the heart for your people.”

Jon didn’t want to explain that, wished his Hand had stayed silent in the hall. “Ser Davos gets carried away,” he responded.

He wasn’t sure if she believed him, “So it was a figure of speech?”

Jon didn’t want to lie to her, but he didn’t know how to respond either. He just stayed quiet, hoping she would drop it as they walked back to the keep. Dragonstone looked different at night. Less imposing but more other-worldly. Jon thought he might prefer it this way.

“I’m sorry.” Daenerys said it so softly, Jon almost didn’t hear her. Before he could ask why, she explained, “I’m sorry for what my father did your grandfather and uncle. And I’m sorry for how my brother has been treating you. I know the Starks have some legitimate complaints against my family, but we still are the rightful rulers of the Seven Kingdoms.” 

Jon looked at her. He wasn’t sure he recognized this gentle woman. He’d never seen this Daenerys before, but looking at her, he wondered if this was the real woman beneath all the masks she wore. He knew he couldn’t trust her, couldn’t believe this wasn’t another game of hers, but he relaxed in her presence any way. He was so tired of these games the royals seemed bent on playing. He was just a soldier, who’d been forced into being a lord commander then a king. And hadn’t she proved herself in that hall? “When’s he just going to kill me? I’d like to get it over with.”

“Why are you so eager to die?” She looked confused and a little hurt. Jon wasn’t sure why.

He knew the truth. He hadn’t wanted to come back. He’d wanted to stay dead. Put down his sword and shield, forget his duty and the fights in front of him, to just rest in death. He wouldn’t tell her that though. “I’m not.”

“You should lie more,” she sounded annoyed, looking away from him again. “It would give you good practice because you’re terrible at it.”

Jon said, “You’re good at it. How many lies did you tell to get as skilled at it as you are?”

Daenerys shook her head. “I don’t know. Too many to remember.”

Jon suspected that was a rare truth from the princess. He walked beside her for a moment, before asking the question he’d had for her almost since meeting her, “Who are you, Daenerys Targaryen?”

Daenerys stopped and looked up at the full moon. Jon really did love the way she looked in moonlight, like she was just an extension of the beams. “I am who I need to be.”

“But what about the real you? The woman behind all the…” Jon searched for the right word, but only found one. “…all the bullshit.”

Her eyebrow raised at his language. “She died crossing the Red Waste many years ago. She was too weak to survive my life.”

“I don’t think any of you is weak.”

Daenerys looked to the ground. “You don’t know me, Jon Snow.”

“I think I just might. I see you better than your brother does, in any rate.”

“That’s like beating him in one-on-one combat. Not much of an accomplishment.”

Jon chuckled, surprised by the joke. She was surprising him a lot. She was probably the bravest person he’d ever met. He’d seen her brother’s madness, but she faced it every day. Tried to temper it, took its violence upon herself.

He wanted to kill the man that hurt her. He wanted to beat Viserys to a bloody pulp like he had with Ramsay, only this time he wouldn’t stop. He’d kill this dragon king. His sword had been taken from him, but Jon didn’t need it. He would do it with his bare hands.

Jon shook that darkness away. He had a mission. He had to stay focused on defeating the army of the dead. He looked at the princess walking beside him. She was a distraction. He asked, “Does he do that often? Hurt you?”

“For years,” she answered. “It doesn’t even really hurt me anymore.”

He stopped her, wanting to look into her eyes. She didn’t want to meet his, but when she did, he saw the pain there. He felt the dark anger rise up in him again, “I should kill him. I will fucking kill him for you.”

“That’s treason. It’s death to threaten to kill a king.” The response sounded automatic to Jon’s ears.

He asked, “Are you going to turn me in?”

She didn’t answer him, which Jon took as a no. She turned away from him and began walking again.

Jon followed her. “I will never bow to him.”

“I understand.” Daenerys’ voice held no emotion.

“Do you? Then why do you stay? From what I can see, you have most of the power. If you left, he’d have nothing.”

“He’s my brother.”

“He’s no brother. I’ve had brothers. I am a brother. I would never do to my sisters what he’s done to you.”

“That means nothing. You don’t know our lives, how hard it’s been.”

He stopped her again. “Then tell me. Explain it to me.”

“I know it’s hard to imagine now, but he used to be so sweet with me when we were younger. And when my husband died…” She stopped for a moment. “When my husband and child died, it was like we’d returned to those happier days. He was so kind to me.” Daenerys eyes filled. “Tyrion says it was just so he could get his hands on my dragons, but I don’t…actually, he’s probably right. But still, I was lost and he guided me. He’s the only family I have left.”

“Was this before the Red Waste?”

“Yes.”

“If that Daenerys died, then,” Jon considered his words carefully. “Then why do you still care about the sweet boy he might have been?”

“It’s hard to be alone in this world. Why does everyone think I’m so eager to make myself the last Targaryen?”

“Aye,” Jon agreed, understanding too well.

“Everyone criticized Rhaegar for not doing anything about the Mad King, but I understand. It’s easy to say what’s right when it’s not your father, when it’s not your brother.”

Jon didn’t know what to say in response to that. He wished he was better with words. He wished he knew what he could say that would make everything better for her.

But he suspected words would never make Daenerys okay. He wasn’t sure if anything would.

But he stepped in closer to her. Her eyes studied his as he let his thumb caress the side of her face.

One of the dragons screeched, startling Jon into dropping his hand.

They began walking again. Jon was surprised by how close they were to the castle. He asked her, “Do you really think I somehow cheated against your brother?”

Daenerys took a deep breath. “That is what I said,” she answered.

Jon recognized that wasn’t an answer. He noticed her lip move upwards out of the corner of his eye though. “I would have beaten you though.”

“Really?” Jon’s eyebrow raised.

“Yes. I would have invoked my right to a champion. One even you couldn’t beat.”

“Who?”

“My child, Drogon.”

“The black dragon? That’s not a fair fight.”

“No, but it’s one I’d win.”

Jon laughed. “You’ve spent too much time with sellswords.”

Jon caught the hitch in her voice and her misstep. He’d meant it as a joke. She looked at him and reluctantly explained, “I took a sellsword for a lover back in Essos. My brother found out and burned the man alive.”

“Just like your father.”

“No. Viserys didn’t have wildfire. It was much slower.”

“Did you love the man?”

“No, but I did care for him. I didn’t want him to die.”

Another puzzle piece that was Daenerys Targaryen slipped into place for Jon. They made it back to the stone entryway. Daenerys walked to the shortened wall overlooking the water, watching her children play in the moonlight.

Jon stood by her side. It still was a sight to see, dragons. Real dragons. Jon never thought he’d live to see such things.

But then he never thought he’d battle living dead men or become a king either. Nothing of his childhood dreams had prepared him for the reality of his life.

“What do you know about dragon dreams?” Daenerys asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Jon thought for a moment before he answered. “Maester Aemon used to get them.” Jon noticed Daenerys’ look of confusion. “He was our maester on the Wall and a Targaryen.”

Her confusion turned to an excitment. “Is he still there? I would love to meet him.”

Jon ducked his head, “No, he died a couple of years ago.”

“Oh,” Daenerys went back to staring at the moon over the water.

Jon didn’t like seeing her upset, so he said, “He wanted meet you too.”

She gave him a half-hearted smile. “Viserys doesn’t get them, dragon dreams, but I do. I don’t know how Daenys saw the great doom with them. I never understand them until after the events come true.”

“Maybe it’s just luck.”

“I keep seeing the wall. At least I assume that’s what it is.” She looked at him, blushing a little now. “And I dreamed of you.”

Jon’s gut tightened. He suspected another trick, but the way she looked at him makes him doubt it. “Perhaps it means you’re going to help me. You’re going to help me save the North from the threat beyond the wall. Just like Daenys saved her family from the great doom.”

She laughed softy. Jon wondered what was funny about what he’d said. She explained, “I always thought the dreams meant you were going to save me.”

The feeling in his gut twisted. He didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way she was looking at him. This was a trick. It had to be. She stood, looking like a goddess bathed in the moonlight. Jon actively had to remind himself that she was enemy. He wanted to take her in his arms and save her like one of those heroes in the stories Sansa had loved so much as a child. He wondered what she tasted like. He wanted to save her. He wanted to have her. He wanted to make her his.

The more he tried to stop the thoughts the more fruitless the fight became. He faced her fully, stepping closer to her.

Close enough to kiss her. He didn’t reach out to touch her though. But he let his eyes drift and they landed on her lips.

They looked good, pink and pouted. He longed to feel them, longed to taste them. Before he even realized what he was doing, he leaned forward.

Daenerys stepped back, shaking her head as if dispelling some daze. “Good night, Jon Snow,” Daenerys said. She continued to step away from him, towards the castle entrance.

The action puzzled Jon. Hadn’t she been pushing for this since he’d arrived? But she was right, it was a bad idea to get involved with one another in that way. “Dream well, Daenerys Targaryen.”

She stopped to look at him one last time. Her eyes drifted to his lips, but before he could say anything, she disappeared into the keep.

Jon sat, letting out a breath. What had just happened? What was happening to him? Why was his blood screaming for him to chase after her?

He knew the answers to all of these questions, but he wasn’t ready to face that. He had an army of the dead to defeat. That was where his focus had to be.

 

* * *

 

She could have had him. She knew that. He was ready to kiss her. He was ready to take her. He wanted to bed her. But she had run away, like a scared little girl she no longer was. 

Why had she ran?

You know why, her mind thought. Because that wasn’t part of any plan. Not yours, or Tyrion’s, or Viserys. You were speaking honestly with him. You enjoy his company. You like him, as a woman likes a man.

She feared that was a lie. She didn’t like him, what she felt for him felt deeper than that. It was a feeling she had almost forgotten, one she thought gone along with her sun and stars. But it was different this time. There was a deep pull towards Jon Snow, like he was meant for her, he’d always been hers.

And she’d always been his.

It was ridiculous. She was not some little girl who still believed in fairy tales. Brave knights didn’t rescue trapped princesses, and when they did, it usually ended badly. She knew that’s how love usually ended, badly. How many times did she have to learn that lesson?

Still, she dreamed of her northern lover that night, whose face was no longer obscured. She dreamed of Jon Snow taking her to the heights of pleasure when she could have had the real man in her bed.

She knew dreams were safer. Dreams could mean nothing. She could wake and end a dream.

Daenerys didn’t know how to stop her real feelings for the real man.


	3. A Dynasty Falls and Restores

Jon dreamed of her. He hated it. Hated how she looked down on him with dark eyes as he thrusted up into her. Hated how she clawed and bit at him as he took her against the cave wall like he’d wanted to. Hated how tight and wet he imagined her to be.

Most of all, he hated that it was the only thing he dreamed about anymore and it was the best part of his day. He hated that it always lead to the same result as soon as he woke, letting his hand drift under his small clothes and finish himself off.

Then he’d lay there, dirtied by his own seed, ashamed and embarrassed by his own weakness. He’d lived most of his life as a celibate. How in the seven hells had she managed to so thoroughly get under his skin? How had she so thoroughly invaded his thoughts?

Jon cleaned himself before dressing for the day. It was early, but he knew if he tried sleeping again the pattern would just repeat. He’d dream of fucking her, then he’d pretend to fuck her, and then he’d clean up the mess he made of himself.

Gods, he was a mess. He had to focus on the army of the dead, defeating the Night King, and instead he acted like a teenaged boy touching himself every time he got a moment alone. Worse, he’d had far more control on his urges when he’d been an actual teenaged boy.

He’d wondered sometimes if he’d come back wrong. He’d had no sexual urges when he first awoke. He thought maybe he’d just left that part of himself behind in the darkness of death. He was somewhat glad for it. Ygritte had taught him that pleasure brought only pain in the end. He was happy to be rid of his baser needs.

Now it was as if his body was making up for that lost time.

He wanted to avoid Daenerys, but that was quite impossible. She always had an uncanny ability of showing up when he took his breaks from mining. He suspected she had a spy informing on him. The suspicion should worry him, but she was good company. She was clever and her stories were always interesting, her questions insightful. They often walked and lunched together.

He liked her. He enjoyed spending time with her. He cared about her, more than he should. Deeper than he cared to admit. That worried him almost more than his intense want for her.

Davos had noticed, “Reconsidering that marriage pact?”

Jon no longer answered such questions. He didn’t have an answer. He wouldn’t support Viserys, but he needed his army. He didn’t want a political match with Daenerys for fear of isolating Cersei, whose army he also needed. He needed to somehow broker a ceasefire between the king and queen fighting over the throne and have their armies march north.

He thought birthing another set of dragons might be an easier task.

What he wanted was to marry Daenerys, take her away from her brother, and fuck her until his lust for her was finally sated. If it ever managed to be sated.

He’d insisted to Sansa that he had to be the one to come down here. That the Dragon King would only treat with another king. But maybe that had been a mistake. One that could end up costing him his life. He should have sent someone who wasn’t going to be seduced by a beautiful woman. Someone who would have the patience and political skill to navigate this court and the madman they followed.

Then again, he didn’t actually have anyone like that to send, except maybe his sister who he never would have risked. Sansa had met enough monsters in one lifetime, Jon wasn’t about to let Viserys Targaryen anywhere near her.

Maybe he should have brought Littlefinger with. He didn’t trust the man, but that slimy bugger probably would have known how to suck up to Viserys as well as play him like a fiddle. The only problem was that Jon didn’t trust that Littlefinger’s interests were his. It seemed just as likely that Littlefinger would have arranged for Jon’s head to roll as much as brokering an alliance between the two kings.

He just wished he was treating with Daenerys Targaryen instead of Viserys. Yes, it would have been complicated and further confused by his attraction to her, but he believed it would have worked out in the end. That he would have convinced her to join with him. They would fight against the Long Night together.

He walked out to the caves, eager to leave his thoughts behind and get lost in hard work. But he saw a figure on the beach, one he knew was going to make his day a long one.

“What are you doing out here, Tyrion?”

The smaller man turned to face him. He looked tired. “I wanted to speak with you. I’m glad I decided to come down early as to not miss you. You usually don’t get here until after sunrise.”

Jon looked to the sun, which was still resting below the horizon but made the sky a rainbow of colors. “What do you have to say then?”

“You north men are so direct. Did anyone everyone ever teach any of you how to engage in small talk? Ease into a conversation. It helps sometimes you know. You get people to relax, be in a friendlier mood when you ask for something.”

Jon glared. “I have too much to do to sit here and prattle about the weather with you. And it would just annoy me to do it, so ask whatever it is you want. This is the best mood you’ll find me in.”

Tyrion looked like he’d swallowed something sour. “You always were a moody shit. I see being a grown man and a king didn’t change that.”

Jon’s lips lifted in a tight smile. He had to admit he liked Tyrion. As much as he annoyed him and as different as the little man was from everyone else Jon knew, Jon did like him. He let Tyrion continue, “It seems to me that what you need is proof.”

“Proof? Proof of what?”

“Of these White Walkers of yours. Cersei thinks they are made up, stories to frighten children. Viserys doesn’t even have that. He didn’t have some septa scaring him with tales of the Long Night. He can’t even comprehend what you’re telling him. You’re looking to get them both to your side, correct?”

Jon considered Tyrion’s words. He knew that technically Tyrion was his enemy, but if anyone could solve the problem of how to get the king and queen to stop fighting and join his fight, it was Tyrion Lannister. He was probably the smartest man Jon had ever met. “So what are you suggesting? That I invite them to the wall? They aren’t going to do that, certainly not on my invitation.”

“No,” Tyrion stepped closer. “Bring one of these dead men to them. Show them the threat is real.”

Jon thought about it. The first time he’d seen a wight was in Jeor Mormont’s chambers. One dead man who rose again. It was a good thought, but it presented one major problem. “Their army is amassing. I don’t know that I could just grab one.” He remembered the wall. “Besides we tried that once. Sent a severed hand to King Joffrey’s Hand.” He glared at Tyrion who had the decency to look somewhat ashamed. “It was just a decayed nothing by the time he granted my watch brother an audience. How do you expect me to get an audience with the queen now without her killing me as soon as I step foot in the Red Keep?”

“It’s winter now. The decay won’t happen so quickly. As for an audience, my sister listens to Jaime, who may listen to me.”

It sounded like a weak plan at best, but Jon had a more immediate question, “Why are you helping me? You serve Viserys Targaryen, not me.”

Tyrion fingered the silver hand pin attached to his chest. “Do you know who gave me this pin? Daenerys. I’m quite proud to wear it. She always better understood things like that. The rituals and importance of titles.”

Jon stiffened at Daenerys’ name. Tyrion’s eyes were watching him closely. Jon wished he was better at hiding his feelings, at lying. Tyrion continued, “She’s his heir. If the worst were to happen and our dear king pissed off the wrong person, said the wrong thing to the wrong man, the crown would pass to her.”

Jon heard the implied words. Viserys would die sooner or later. And when it happened, the only shocking thing about it would be that it hadn’t happened years earlier. “That’s Lannister loyalty for you,” Jon said, half-bitterly.

“Well, some of us observe Stark honor and decide we prefer a long life to a stellar reputation.”

Jon looked away, frowning. Targaryen, Lannister, Stark. Why did it always come back to the noble families and their histories? “Why are you pushing for a marriage then?”

Tyrion looked confused, Jon wondered if the hand was actually not sure what he was talking about or just playing dumb. “When I first arrived, you wanted me to marry Daenerys Targaryen.”

“I still want you to marry her.”

“Why?” Jon couldn’t understand why Tyrion Lannister would want the woman he looked to make the Queen of Westeros married to a bastard.

“You marry her. You sail north with your new wife, her children will follow her for her protection along with the Dothraki. The former rift between the Stark and Targaryen houses will be healed. Such an alliance benefits everyone.” Once again, Jon noticed, Tyrion didn’t mention the dubious position that would leave his king in.

“I’m not a Stark,” Jon pointed out.

“Do you think a bastard is going to be wed to a princess? You’d be legitimized.”

It had been Jon’s dream since he was a boy. He’d always wanted to be a Stark, along with a mother’s love, it had been his greatest desire. “No.”

Tyrion sighed, clearly frustrated, “Why are you still fighting this? It’s the best solution to both our problems. Who else are you planning on marrying? My sister? I can tell you that you’d be far happier with Daenerys. My sister’s a miserable cunt, which I think you saw when Robert Baratheon visited.”

Jon said nothing, looking over the water, his usual dour expression coming back. Tyrion studied him closely and Jon tried to hide his discomfort of the close gaze. Tyrion’s eyes widened as if figuring something out, “Is that it? You want to marry Daenerys so you hold back because gods forbid you allow yourself any happiness. You truly are a northern fool.”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is it? You are the only one left. The last Stark male. You shouldn’t feel guilty because you lived.”

But Jon did. Because he hadn’t lived. Why was he brought back over his father, over his brother? They were far better men than he would ever be. It made no sense. Jon was nothing special, never had been. Why was he picked over the other men in his family?

Why had he been brought back?

He wouldn’t tell any of that to Tyrion though. The Targaryens didn’t need to know what had happened. Jon may like Tyrion, but he would truly be a fool to trust him. He was a Lannister serving a Targaryen, one he’d practically just confirmed he planned to betray given the chance.

“Winterfell is Sansa’s by right. I don’t want to steal it away from her.” Jon didn’t want to confirm all of Catelyn Stark’s worsy suspicions about him. Even if she wouldn’t know about them now.

At the mention of Sansa, Tyrion’s expression softened. He said, “Politics aside, I like you, Snow, and I like Daenerys. I think your marriage would be a happy one. A rare thing in this world.”

Jon said nothing and Tyrion left him to his thoughts.

 

* * *

 

Viserys went to visit his dragon. The other two snapped at him as soon as he set foot in the field they’d claimed as their own. Even Balerion was stiff and refused to let him ride him. They wouldn’t be acting like that if his sister was around. He hated her for that. He was just as much a dragon as she was. Yet it had taken years for any of the dragons to accept him, and really, only Balerion did. And he barely let Viserys ride him. He’d only done it properly once, and only because Daenerys rode her Drogon and encouraged Balerion to allow a rider as well, not that anyone else needed to know that. It burned at him. Why didn’t the dragons respond to him the way they did her? 

Why did everyone love her and not him? Since the Dothraki, Daenerys was the one everyone looked at with love. Everyone admired her and she gained followers and friends easily, while Viserys struggled for everything. Everything he had, he’d begged for. She had never had to debase herself the way he did. Even when he used her to build himself up, she always managed to turn it to her benefit. Her khal dies, she hatches dragons in his pyre. He sends her off to be raped by sellswords, she returns with their commanders more loyal to her than him. He generously listens to her and makes Tyrion Lannister his Hand, and the dwarf advises her more than his king.

He was the king, he was the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms; people should look to him, not her.

He thought about killing her sometimes. He thought about marrying her other times. She was pretty enough. But she claimed that her womb was barren, which didn’t suit a king who needed to rebuild his family’s dynasty.

Useless brat.

Still, she had her uses, he thought, petting his dragon. He knew the other two would grow wild quickly without her to reign them in. He couldn’t afford that. Couldn’t look like the Dragon King who couldn’t control his own pets.

His head ached from the amount of liquor he’d consumed the night before, and Viserys decided he’d nap out here in the comfort of his dragon. He could hear the other two behind him, but what did they matter?

Balerion whined when Viserys leaned against him as Rhaegal and Drogon took off. Viserys ignored his creature’s cries. What did it matter what a beast wanted? The whines turned to growls, but Viserys ignored that too.

He fell asleep under Balerion’s golden wing. He awoke to the sound of his sister’s laughter. It was a sound he hadn’t heard since Daenerys was a child. It made his heart ache to hear it now, to realize how long it had been since he’d made her laugh like that. When had that happened?

He guessed she’d decided to picnic with one of the slaves, probably that Missandei she liked so well. He kept telling her that princesses didn’t dine with slaves, but she often ignored him. Despite the fact that he always punished her for her misdeeds.

He was surprised she continued to ignore his wishes even after her last punishment. What did he have to do to make her behave? She was useless. Completely worthless. He should have left her for dead when she’d been a babe, saved himself a lot of trouble.

“That did not happen,” he heard his sister’s voice on the wind.

“I swear it by the old gods,” a masculine voice answered, surprising Viserys. Why was his sister spending time with a man, seemingly alone? “Other than the beard, Theon made a surprisingly pretty girl.”

Dany laughed again, softer this time. Viserys longed to see her, but feared he’d give away his presence if he moved. “Your family sounds wonderful.”

“Aye,” the man agreed. Viserys finally picked up on the northern accent. He burned at the implication. She’d told him she’d failed in her seduction of the northern king, yet here they were spending time together behind his back. Was she playing him for a fool? Had she already seduced the fake king and decided not to tell him? Lied to him like everyone else had, that bitch was just like everyone else. Taking from him without giving him any respect that was his due.

Viserys thoughts were interrupted by that Snow’s soft words. “They were.”

“Are,” she corrected. “You still have a sister left.”

“The one I got along with least when we were growing up. Strange how life works out.”

“Cruel is more like it. I never even got to meet Rhaegar.”

“Maybe it’s better that way. You can remember him any way you want. Don’t have to think about the slanders against him if you don’t want to.”

“I prefer the hard truth to pleasant lies.” She paused here. “I would think a man of the north would appreciate that.”

“Aye,” the northern king agreed.

Viserys heard nothing for a time. He hated that he didn’t know what they were doing. Were they fucking? Kissing? What was going on?

He shifted, leaving the safety of the wing. He looked over his dragon’s neck to see his sister sitting in the middle of the three dragons, the northerner sitting beside her.

They were merely looking at one another. The king had one hand placed over his sister’s. Viserys didn’t understand. What were they doing? They were alone. The king could have his sister and he’d commanded her to take the north man. So why were they merely sitting and talking? She was supposed to be seducing the man.

What was going on?

The northerner stood and Viserys ducked down again. The memory of their fight still burned. He wasn’t so big a fool to yell at the other man without his guard around.

“I should be going. I need to get back to the mines, maybe talk to some of the smiths.”

“You work too much,” Daenerys said.

“The enemy is coming. I must protect my people.”

It went silent again. Viserys had had enough of this hiding. He was a king. He could do as he pleased, walk where he wanted. He strode out from his hiding spot, acting as though he had walked up here just now.

He caught his sister holding both hands of the northerner, they were facing each other and looking into each other’s eyes. When she saw Viserys, she dropped the other man’s hands and took a step away from him. “Hello, dear brother.”

“Sweet sister,” Viserys said back in greeting. His eyes focused on the north man. His look had hardened, his hatred clear. The rebel looked ready to spring forward onto him at a moment’s notice, it made Viserys uncomfortable, but he ignored that feeling.

The three royals stood facing each other, a dragon at each of their backs. The white behind Viserys, black behind Daenerys, and the green one behind Jon. The dragons seemed on edge, as if primed for a fight.

It was another insult to Viserys that his dragon was the least aggressive, most submissive of the bunch. Daenerys’ monster was always putting his brothers in place. The other one was quieter, more patient than his brothers. Viserys thought him an even worse dragon than his own foolish one.

Daenerys asked, “What brings you up here, brother?”

Viserys’ eyes didn’t leave the rebel. The man didn’t look like much, was a couple of inches shorter than him. Viserys didn’t know how this bastard had amounted to anything. One of his bedslaves had mentioned the false king was comely.

He’d thrown her out when she said it.

He sneered, lying, “Lord Tyrion has a new plan for how to crush the usurper’s wife and her army.”

Daenerys eyebrow lifted. “The siege is the only real option we have left.”

“We have dragons. We have more options than that. Fire and blood, Dany. We give them our family’s words. To payback all that we have suffered.”

The false king looked bored by this conversation and attempted to sneak off. Viserys yelled at him, “I haven’t given you permission to leave.”

He scowled. “I don’t need your permission. I am a king.”

Daenerys’ wide eyes followed the other man, but she said nothing, biting her lips. Their eyes connected once more, both softening, before the rebel dog took his leave.

Viserys could feel his blood boil. He wanted to kill them both. They were humiliating him. He knew it. Perhaps they were out here plotting his death and downfall. She’d have her northern dog kill him and take the throne herself with her new pet. He should kill them both now and take his dragon to King’s Landing and take back the throne.

Daenerys looked at him again, she looked so much like their mother. The mother she’d killed coming into this world. Viserys hated her face. The older she grew, the more of a cruel joke it became. She said, “Viserys, if we burn King’s Landing to the ground, no one will follow us. We need allies. This is our home, but we are strangers here. That’s why we need alliances with the great houses. Just like we needed the support of the masters in Essos.”

“They will bow to us or burn, just like Aegon before us.”

“Aegon proved himself in battle. We haven’t won any of those. Viserys, think this through.”

But Viserys wasn’t listening to her anymore. He was looking in the direction where the northerner had left. “You’re supposed to be fucking him. Not going on picnics with him.”

Daenerys instantly silenced. She looked at him like he was a snake ready to strike. He hated her for that. He was her brother. Hadn’t he protected her? Hadn’t he been the only one on her side for so long? Was he not the only family she had left? She answered calmly, “I told you already. He has to think it love.”

Viserys took a step closer. Daenerys didn’t move. “I believe he does. The way he stares at you…it reminds me of those men in Essos. Jorah and Daario. Daario, you cared for him didn’t you?” Viserys came closer, brushing a strand of Daenerys back behind her ear. “Remember what happened to him? Remember how he burned? Remember his screams of agony? How do you think those screams will sound with that rough north accent?”

Daenerys said nothing, but Viserys heard Drogon growl, saw the dragon step towards him. Viserys scrambled away back to Balerion, who moved away from him. Viserys cursed. Daenerys moved to face him fully. “I remember. I remember the words you said to me as he burned as well. You told me, “You are mine. Only mine. The only men who should find themselves between your legs besides me are the men I allow.” Or do I remember that incorrectly?”

She stepped towards him, her massive monster following. Viserys gulped. She said, in a serene voice that barely sounded like her, “Do you want to know what it feels like to burn alive, Viserys? One word and I can make that happen.” Viserys’ eyes darted to the massive beast staring him down now. “You never learned how to control my children, did you? Never had one of them obey your command. Not even your mount has bonded with you in the way of the old dragon riders. They listen to me. One word, right now, and you’d be dead in an instant.”

Viserys could feel the grip of fear, absolute terror as the black dragon lifted its lips, showing its rows of teeth. One word. One word and he’d be killed. “I am the dragon,” he said, disbelievingly.

Daenerys stared at him for a moment. Her face had grown hard, her lips showing her disgust. “You are no dragon.” She blinked as if seeing him for the first time.

After a moment more, she walked away from him. “My debt to you is fully paid, brother,” Daenerys said.

“What?” Viserys didn’t understand. His eyes still focused on his sister’s own black dread.

She turned her head to look at him. “I loved you. You protected me when I was just a babe. You were there for me during the Red Waste. I stayed by your side for these acts. But no more. My debt is paid.”

With that, Daenerys climbed onto the back of Drogon and flew off the cliff. Her other two children following her.

Viserys stood for a moment, shaking in his residual fear. Then his fear shifted to anger. This was the work of that bastard. He’d kill him.

He’d kill that rebellious lord. He vowed the bastard wouldn’t leave this island alive.

But first, Viserys needed fresh pants and a few stiff drinks.

 

* * *

 

Daenerys felt the wind against her face. She always loved flying upon Drogon’s back. It made her feel free, unburdened by her brother’s cruelties and her responsibilities.

But she’d never felt as free as she did in this moment.

She closed her eyes, wanting just to feel for a moment. This led to a comely, scarred face moving to the forefront of her thoughts. Daenerys repressed the smile that threatened to break out at the thought of the northern king. They had been spending a lot of time together lately. She was enjoying it, much to her surprise. He was a serious, somber man, but once she got him to talk about more than the undead threat, he actually had a wry wit, much like Tyrion’s.

The key had been his family. He clearly loved them dearly, along with his pet wolf. Once she got him telling her stories of them, she found he could actually be somewhat talkative.

He also seemed genuinely interested in her time in Essos. The exotic lands she’d grown up in and the different cultures she’d come across fascinated him. She was surprised by this as well. Tyrion had warned her that northerners were a suspicious bunch and not fond of anything they saw as foreign, but Jon Snow seemed to enjoy her tales. He’d even confessed that despite this being his first time anywhere that wasn’t in the north, he wished he’d had the chance to see more of the world.

She had never thought herself lucky about anything in her cruel life, but she guessed she had been able to see much of the world in her short life. Jon Snow was forcing her to reconsider things she’d considered to be hard truths. It was terrifying.

It was exciting.

Daenerys gripped the spines of her dragon to guide him east, out over the seas. She could feel that Drogon had wanted to go hunting, but she had no desire to join him in that today. She just wanted to fly with her children. They could hunt after.

She had no real destination in mind, but Drogon took her to her Dothraki. She looked at the tents. So few. If only Viserys had any patience, she could have had a horde of 100,000 Dothraki. Instead of the few thousands who’d stayed with her through the Red Waste or joined later, declaring a dragon rider the best khaleesi any bloodrider could hope for.

She could have convinced all of the Dothraki of the same belief, but Viserys hadn’t wanted to wait for the next gathering at Vaes Dothrak. One month, and he couldn’t do it.

Her brother was a fool. He would make a terrible ruler. She always knew this, but now, seeing her life through someone else’s eyes, she could look at it more clearly. Jon Snow was right, about many things, but mostly about her relationship with her brother.

She had no reason to follow him. He was no dragon, never had been. Most of his power came from her, her men, her resources. The only unit fully committed to him were the Unsullied, and even then she had talked him into having them both hold the whip since it was her dragon that was being sold for them.

Granted Drogon had burned the masters they’d left him with and returned to his mother. Daenerys had smiled while her brother ranted and raved about how the masters would come after them now. She had pointed out that they’d taken their army and had three dragons. How would the masters stand against them?

They had never followed, the next city bowing before their might. It had pleased Viserys to have men bowing before them. He’d never seen the snide looks, getting too caught up in the gifts of booze and women. But Daenerys had seen the way the masters had treated them like children to be indulged and brushed aside.

It had burned her to see such disrespect, but pointing it out to her brother would have resulted in him doing something stupid and rash. So she kept her peace, helping the slaves she could as best she could.  Buying the ones she could save, even though she wasn’t sure it always helped. Trading one master for another.

Dragons had no masters. No one else should either.

Daenerys was ready to return and guided her dragon back. He landed them in the usual spot. It was deserted. She watched her children leave to go hunting.

She felt a bit strange without a guard, as a princess she probably should have one. But she doubted she was in any real danger. At least not any more danger than she had always been in.

She walked back to Dragonstone. She saw a man in the distance, but it took a moment before she recognized him, Davos Seaworth.

She hadn’t spoken to him alone yet. She walked towards him. Perhaps he could help her build an alliance between his king and her king. She smiled when she saw him and he gave a nod. She stood next to him, looking out over the sea as he was. 

“You know these waters well?” Tyrion had given her a brief history on this man.

“Aye,” Davos agreed. “Better than any piece of land.”

“I was born here, but I don’t remember it. Dragonstone is home but…” Daenerys wasn’t sure how she wanted to complete that thought. “…but it just feels like another place.” That’s how everywhere felt to her. She was always a guest, never staying anywhere long. Westeros was supposed to be the end of that, but it didn’t feel like it.

“I haven’t seen home in years. I didn’t even know how to write home until a couple of years ago. Not that it matters. My wife can’t read.”

Daenerys never realized how little she knew about the common man, surprised that this one from Flea Bottom couldn’t read. She thought it a universal skill. Many of their slaves couldn’t, but she just assumed that was because slaves weren’t encouraged to be educated. Educated men and women rebelled against their masters.

She remembered another fact Tyrion had told her about Davos. “You fought in the Battle of Blackwater, correct?”

He nodded. “Yes, I fought Tyrion at the Battle of Blackwater. That was back when he supported his other terrible king, Joffrey.”

Daenerys knew she should defend her brother, but she couldn’t find the lie easily. She was tired of pretending. “Terrible or not, Joffrey was his nephew. It’s hard to stand against your family. No one ever loves you for it.”

“I lost my son in that battle.” Davos looked out into the sea, and Daenerys knew nothing she could say would help lesson that awful grief that never fully healed. “As a parent, you’re not supposed to have favorites, and I always tried to be a good father, but…” He broke off for a moment. Then he confessed, “He was the only one who took to sailing the way I did. I understood him best. I loved him best. Even when he infuriated me with his fire god nonsense.”

“I lost a son too,” she confessed. Davos looked at her, shocked. She supposed it seemed unlikely a woman her age would know such a pain. “I never even held him in my arms and yet I often think about him, imagine what he’d be like. He’d be a boy now. Asking too many questions, following around any man he admired, begging me to ride a dragon. I never even knew him and I miss him.”

“It’s the cruelest trick of the gods, to have a parent bury a child.”

Daenerys looked down at the still water below them. She had meant to be building an alliance, not trading sad memories. She tried to steer the conversation back to the topic at hand, “Why is your king resisting our attempts to ally with him? If these walking dead men are such a threat, shouldn’t he be more amiable?”

Davos sighed. “The North has suffered greatly these past few years, yer majesty. King Jon doesn’t want to see his people suffer any more. He just wants to protect them from the greater enemy.”

It was an admirable notion, if slightly unrealistic. “What was your plan coming down here? Did he really expect us to follow him on his word alone? Give him everything he asks for without receiving anything in return?”

Davos bristled and responded gruffly, “The threat in the North is far more important than any of this petty squabbling. King Stannis understood that.”

Stannis. Daenerys remembered that was the usurper’s brother. The one Davos had followed in the War of the Five Kings. She had never understood why a man would follow someone who sliced off a portion of their hand.

Then again, she was the last person to judge anyone on following someone who hurt them.

“But why does he resist a marriage? He could ask for his support as a dowry. The dragons would follow me north in any case, the Dothraki too probably. It solves his problems.”

Davos snorted. “Don’t ask me. He’s certainly not listening to my advice on that.”

Daenerys smiled softly. Then a thought occurred to her as a reason and the smile faded. “Does Jon have a lover back in Winterfell?”

Davos chuckled. “Not that I’m aware of, yer majesty.”

She nearly stomped her foot in frustration, but settled for griping her hands together. “Then why resist the marriage?” she repeated.

“He needs Cersei Lannister’s army as well. Marrying you would end a chance of an alliance with her."

Daenerys shook her head. “We’ll defeat her. She can’t win against dragons. He could marry me while Tyrion takes King’s Landing and unites the kingdom under my brother. Then the entire might of Westeros would go north to help him with this white walker threat.”

“He doesn’t have time for that.”

Daenerys sighed. “Viserys wanted to come to Westeros years ago. I kept him back insisting we needed a bigger army. We could have had the full Dothraki horde if he’d waited a little longer, but he only had patience when he was in pleasurable comfort. We have a few thousand, which Viserys thinks is enough for a cavalry. But that’s not what the Dothraki are. He doesn’t understand them. He doesn’t understand anything.”

Too late, Daenerys realized that was too much to share with her enemy’s advisor. She looked over to him, the man had a fatherly air about him. It made easy to overshare. She shook her head. Damn these northerners. They were somehow getting past her defenses.

Davos didn’t leap on her weakness the way so many men before would have. “Jon’s a young man.” He glanced over to her. “About your age. He shouldn’t be worrying about the fate of the world and how to save his people. Men his age should be worried about finding a good wife and fathering sons. Women your age shouldn’t be worrying about thrones, you should be worrying about romance. People your age should be pursing love, not war.”

Daenerys rolled her eyes. The man was not subtle. “I tried that. It didn’t work.”

Davos’ eyes met hers. “Didn’t it?”

Daenerys shook her head. Sure, Jon was much fonder of her now. They were spending most of their free time together these days. They enjoyed each other’s company. Sure, she was pretty sure that fondness went deeper than either of them were willing to admit. Their mutual fondness for unnecessary physical contact proved that. But every time she broached the topic of marriage with him, he cut her off or left.

“He’s a young man. A bit insecure when it comes to women folk.” He leaned over to whisper. “Don’t tell him I said that.” Daenerys smiled and Davos continued in a regular voice. “Young men don’t like to expose their emotions when they are unsure of women’s feelings.”

Daenerys stifled a snort. “Unsure?”

“He may know that he can have your body, but what of your heart?”

Daenerys froze. She looked back out at the deep, still water. She had sworn so many times to never risk that again. She wouldn’t be able to handle another man she loved dying. She tried to be numb to it, but the ache never went away. So many had died – Drogo, Rhaego, Rakharo, Ser Barristan, Jorah, Daario.

Davos walked away, leaving her with her thoughts.

 

* * *

 

Tyrion wondered how Varys had broken seals on messages without showing any sign of tampering. The scroll for the King in the North had arrived about an hour ago. He was desperate to know what it said.

He feared it would take away Jon Snow before his plan was complete. He knew that Daenerys and the king had grown closer, but he wasn’t sure it was enough. When he questioned his queen about their connection, she claimed that Jon Snow wasn’t in love with her.

Yes, he was sure the King in the North stared after her longingly because of his hope for a successful military alliance.

But was it enough? He was fairly certain that neither had acted on their feelings yet. They were both stubborn and unwilling to look weak.

He stared at the Stark seal on the scroll. What was happening in the North? Tyrion had heard from Davos that the mining would be wrapping in a couple weeks at most. He knew time was running short for him and his plans, but he still thought he had a little more.

He just needed a little more time.

Tyrion walked over to pour himself some Dornish red he’d been saving. He had been good about keeping the drinking to a minimum since joining Viserys’ service. He needed his wits at their sharpest.

The wine had never tasted sweeter. He wasn’t sure what the note would read, but he was certain it wouldn’t be good news.

How could he turn that to his advantage?

Thinking over the problem for a while he figured out that the best he could do was ensure that Jon Snow not read the note alone. There was to be a small council meeting, Daenerys would be there, he would ensure that Jon read it then.

Then he would do his best to turn whatever the note said to his advantage.

Later that day, the small council meeting convened. Daenerys was bent over the table speaking with Grey Worm and her Dothraki bloodriders about upcoming battle plans. The door opened and Tyrion turned, expecting Jon Snow.

Instead it was Viserys. Tyrion stiffened at the sight of the king. He hadn’t anticipated him being here. He hoped it wouldn’t too sour. Viserys pursed his lips and took his seat at the head of the table.

No one was happy to see him. Tyrion opened his mouth to lie about being happy to see the king taking an interest in his war and the realm, but Jon Snow walked in at that moment, Davos trailing behind. Everyone turned to the King in the North. Tyrion noticed how the princess’ eyes lit up at the sight of the northerner, and how Jon’s eyes softened in turn.

Viserys spoke, setting everyone back on edge, “What’s he doing here?”

Tyrion responded, “I invited him.”

“Why?” Viserys snorted.

Jon Snow, oddly enough, agreed, “I was wondering that myself.”

Tyrion walked over to Jon, handing him the scroll. “News from Sansa.”

Jon lifted the scroll. “You couldn’t have just handed this to me?”

“This is the first message you’ve received from Winterfell since arriving. I assumed it would be important and that you’d want to share the information immediately with the people you’re looking to build an alliance with.”

“How considerate of you,” Jon’s sarcastic tone wasn’t subtle.

It brought a small smile to Tyrion’s lips. There was that amusing boy he’d met all those years ago. He responded with his own sarcasm. “I am a giver.”

Jon’s lips curled as he opened the message. His eyes widened as he read, his mouth dropping open slightly. Tyrion wasn’t sure what to make of it. When Jon finished, the shock hadn’t left his face.

“Jon?” Daenerys asked.

“I thought Arya was dead. I thought Bran was dead.”

Tyrion was surprised by the news. That was not what he expected. He could see the confusion on Viserys’ face out of the corner of his eye. But the princess smiled a bit. “I’m happy for you.” She noticed the look on Jon’s face. “You don’t look happy.”

Jon Snow threw the note down on the painted table. “Bran saw the Night King and his army marching towards Eastwatch. If they make past the wall…”

“The wall has kept them out for thousands of years,” Tyrion pointed out.

Jon’s eyes connected with his then went to Daenerys. “I need to go home.”

Tyrion almost didn’t hear it, but he did. The princess’ breath caught. “You said you don’t have enough men.”

“We’ll have to fight with the men we have.” He paused, looking to Viserys. “Unless you’ll join us.”

Viserys scoffed. “I have bigger concerns than your imaginary monsters.”

Jon’s eyes narrowed, but he refrained from saying anything, nodding before turning to leave.

Tyrion stopped him, “Are you going to Cersei?”

“I don’t see how that’s your concern,” Jon replied. He exchanged a look with Davos. One Tyrion couldn’t read, but it caused Davos to sigh and leave.

Tyrion decided to give an honest answer. “I don’t want you killed by my sister. Remember what I said. You need proof. Just one would convince…”

“There’s no time for that,” Jon interrupted him. “I have to protect my family.”

“You’re not thinking clearly, Snow.” Tyrion attempted to stop him again. “Just one might convince all those that you need.”

Jon nodded. “I will be at Winterfell. If you manage to set up a meeting with the rulers, send a raven and I will bring the wight.” He moved to leave again.

Daenerys asked, stopping him, “What about the dragons? You said you needed them.”

Viserys glared at his sister, but Jon’s look was soft. “I do. They may be the key to winning this. But I can no longer afford to stay here.” Before leaving, Jon looked around the room and said, "I wish you good fortune in the wars to come."

“Jon…” Daenerys near pleading voice chased him out of the room. But he didn’t stop.

Tyrion was surprised to hear it. Even more, he was surprised to see how clearly the princess was showing her feelings. She so often kept them hidden under a mask.

He might have wondered if it was some sort of subterfuge but what could she gain by looking so pained by his leaving? Especially when he wasn’t around to see it. She kept looking to the door, as if thinking about chasing after him.

Viserys watched her as closely as Tyrion did. It made the Hand nervous. Tyrion spoke up, “That could have gone better. The North would have been a strong ally.”

Daenerys didn’t seem to hear him, but Viserys did. He sneered before commanding, “He doesn’t leave this island alive. Do I make myself clear?”

The room filled with an oppressive silence. Tyrion began to speak, but Daenerys beat him to it. “You can’t do that.”

Surprisingly, Viserys’ tone stayed even. “I am king. I can do whatever I wish.” He looked to Grey Worm. “See it done.”

The solider nodded and left before Tyrion or anyone else could stop him.

Daenerys’ eyes darted around the room, she moved to leave, but Viserys stopped her, grabbing her arm roughly. “What do you think you’re doing? You will not chase after him, like some love-stricken slut. You are a princess. You are mine.”

Daenerys looked down at the hand wrapped around her arm as if she didn’t know what it was. Like she’d never been touched like this before. “Let go.”

“No.” Viserys reached back to hit her.

But Daenerys backhanded him before he got the chance. Her mother’s ring cutting his cheek. Tyrion couldn’t believe it. A quick glance showed that everyone else left in the room felt as shocked as him. Daenerys said, “Never touch me again. Never speak to me again. Never look at me again.”

“Dany…”

“Fuck off, Viserys.”

Daenerys rushed out of the room.

Tyrion had to suppress the grin that threatened to spread across his face. Hopefully the princess would find the young northern king before the Unsullied did.

 

* * *

 

Daenerys looked for the King in the North, unsuccessfully. She hadn’t been surprised when he wasn’t in his rooms, but she wasn’t sure where else he would be. She began checking all the places she’d seen him in these past months. She surprised herself in her knowledge of where the king had spent his time during his stay here. 

But she found nothing.

The Unsullied moved around her. She only hoped Jon would avoid them. She had caught up to Grey Worm to command him not to listen to the king, but he’d frowned as he responded, “Unsullied do as commanded. No matter what.”

Daenerys thought it was wrong, to have such mindless obedience. If she became queen, the first thing she would do is release all of the slaves in her household, allow them to leave her if they wished.

She would do things so differently than her brother if she was queen.

Daenerys placed the thought aside. It wasn’t important now. Finding Jon Snow was. She began to check places she had never seen him before, but might work as hiding spots. She remained unsuccessful.

She wound up on the cliff with her dragons, seeking comfort more than anything. Where was he? Was he safe? She placed her head upon Drogon’s front leg, comforted by the dragon’s heat. She could feel the tracks of tears making their way down her cheeks.

When was the last time she’d cried? Not at Daario’s or Jorah’s deaths, despite how heartbroken they’d made her. Perhaps not since the Red Waste. So many bad things had happened to her, crying seemed a waste of time and energy.

She heard the approach before she saw whoever it was. She was surprised to find Tyrion, who hated climbing these cliffs. It was hard on his legs. Still he made his way towards her, carrying something on his back.

“I’m surprised to find you here,” he said when he was close enough.

Daenerys tried to wipe her emotions as she did her tears. “Why? I’m often with my dragons.”

Tyrion’s eyebrow raised, “But I doubt this is where Jon Snow is hiding out.”

Daenerys stiffened, hoping she wasn’t that transparent. “Have the Unsullied reported anything?”

“Not yet,” Tyrion put down the package he’d been carrying at her feet. Up close, she could see it was a traveling bag. She looked up with a question in her eyes. Tyrion paused for a moment before he said, “You know, they found some water in those mines. Off in a small enclave in the left of the first room, easy to miss if you aren’t looking for it. It was a narrow, shallow stream, but a good smuggler could probably get them through it and out to sea under the cover of darkness.”

Daenerys looked up at him, biting her lip. She didn’t want to leave them behind. Tyrion, Missandei, she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t leave them to the cruelty of Viserys. But Tyrion bent over and handed her the traveling bag.

As if reading her thoughts, Tyrion said, “Missandei packed it for you. Don’t worry about us, princess. Slaves and dwarfs have always seen worse and lived through it.”

Daenerys blinked away the tears, once again gathering at the corners at her eyes. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered to him.

Tyrion patted her back. “You should hurry. You don’t want him to leave without you.”

Daenerys tried not to think hard about what she was doing, knowing if she did, she would stop. She would stay and honor the pledge she’d made to her people. Her feet took her to the caves even as her mind began to cloud with doubt.

Was this foolish? What if the king rejected her? Conversation with Davos aside, she was far from certain on Jon’s feelings for her. Tyrion may have said that they would be fine, but would her people be all right without her around to at least partially protect them? The thoughts swirled and despite her mind’s doubts her feet carried her forward without hesitation.

She spotted a couple of Unsullied guards outside the cave mouth. She hid her bag and put on her best royal face. She walked with a command and sneered out, “What are you men doing here?”

The guards looked to each other. “We were ordered to guard the cave. In case Jon Snow attempted to hide here or escape from it.”

Daenerys rolled her eyes. “Jon Snow has been spotted in the catacombs beneath Dragonstone. They are hunting him down now. Why aren’t you with the rest of them?”

She could tell the Unsullied didn’t believe her, but she refused to back down. “Well, your princess asked you a question?”

The Unsullied exchanged looks again before asking her, “Is that a command?”

Daenerys suppressed a smile, knowing she’d won. “If it must be,” she answered with a sigh.

The guards took off in the direction of Dragonstone. She waited for a moment, before gathering her pack and making her way through the cave per Tyrion’s instructions.

She found the gap in the rocks and could hear the men before she saw them and their boat. It was a small thing. She did her best to hide her pack, not wanting to look presumptuous in case the king denied her.

The other northmen stared at her, but it took a minute to catch Jon’s eye. But when he saw her, his eyes widened and they traced her figure. Daenerys struggled to stay straight and proud, refusing to show how pleased it made her that he’d check her out. He made his way to her without hesitation.

“Dany, what are you doing here?”

Danerys had never thought herself a coward, always thought of herself as bold and brave. But looking into Jon’s grey eyes she felt her nerve waver. “I thought you should know that my brother has ordered the Unsullied to have you killed.”

He nodded, the always present serious look overtaking his features once more. But his eyes dipped and he resembled a puppy when he asked, “But why are you here?”

Danerys thought of what Davos said, how young men can be insecure about women’s feelings for them. Despite everything. Despite how clear she had thought she made her feelings. But she felt her own insecurity bringing back her doubts. Suppose he didn’t want her? Could she really abandon her people? She raised her chin, “I wanted to see you off.”

Jon’s eyes narrowed, clearly not believing her. “What do you really want, Daenerys?”

He kept asking her that question. She should have an answer by now. Her eyes flickered over his face and then away again. She let her voice soften in a way it hadn’t in years, “Jon, don’t leave. Please.”

He shook his head, but took a step closer to her. “I cannot stay. My family needs me.”

She thought she understood that. But maybe she didn’t. She didn’t know anything anymore. She didn’t know what a family was. She heard his stories of the north but didn’t have her own to share. There had been no time for fun and games as children, not with Robert’s assassins chasing them. He confused everything she thought she knew.

This was all Jon Snow’s fault. How could he come in, wreck her world and then just leave her with the mess?

Jon took another step closer, “Daenerys?” he questioned.

“Don’t leave me,” she said, her voice soft again.

Jon’s face softened and he took her into his arms. Daenerys had never felt so right. She wanted to cling to him, but settled for grasping onto his jerkin. She rested her face against his breast. He whispered, “Come with me.”

It was what she had wanted to hear. It was why she had come here, her pack hidden. But she hesitated, grasping for reasons to say no. “My dragons.”

“Let them follow then.”

Daenerys stepped away, wanting to look at Jon. He looked at her with a look that she didn’t want to name as anything more than longing. “My brother wouldn’t allow that. He’ll chase me.”

“Let him. I’ll protect you.” His thumbs brushed against her cheeks so softly. Had she been crying again? What was wrong with her?

Daenerys shook her head. She knew he couldn’t. No one could protect anyone, not fully. Still, she wanted to go with him. “Jon…”

He kissed her. His lips were soft and full and better than any dream. “Come with me,” he whispered once more, this time against her lips.

Daenerys realized her plan had failed. She was supposed to get the King in the North to fall in love with her. Instead she had fallen for him. She kissed him, taking his face between her palms and pulling him down. Her kiss was full of seduction and a promise of more to come. “Take me, Jon.”

 

* * *

 

How could she do this to him? He couldn’t find his sister or that northern bastard. When he got his hands on them, he would kill them both.

Viserys had ranted at Grey Worm and his Unsullied for their incompetence. He had raved at Tyrion for his inability to predict this. After his voice began to give he dismissed them both, no longer wishing to look at them.

He was surrounded by incompetence and idiots. Not to mention his blood traitor sister. That whore would pay for his humiliation. How could she possibly choose a dog over him? Her brother? The last dragon? She would sully herself with wolf’s blood. Just like their brother. Same weakness.

He would show them what a true dragon looked like. He would show them all.

He would marry the usurper’s wife, he thought. Yes, then him and Cersei Lannister would destroy their enemies in the north. Why hadn’t he pursued such an option before? Because some monstrous dwarf who claimed to serve him thought the lioness couldn’t be trusted? Dragons didn’t fear lions. Dragons feared nothing.

He finished his wine and then feeling nature’s calling made his way to the privy. Viserys would tell Tyrion to send a message to his sister first thing in the morning. Together they would beat the enemy in the North.

He opened the door to the chamber and sat down, feeling unwell. He wasn’t sure why, perhaps something he’d eaten?

A voice said, “I’d say that I’m sorry for this, but I’m really not.”

Before Viserys could register where the voice came from he felt the bolt in his chest. He looked down, disbelieving. He’d been shot. Someone had shot him.

Another click of a crossbow and another bolt sent him back, pinning him down. Viserys still could believe what was happening, despite already feeling light-headed from the loss of blood.

A man stepped forward, kneeing before the king. “This had to be done, you understand. For the good of the realm.”

Viserys didn’t feel the last bolt. He no longer felt anything as he slumped, weightless.

Dead.

 

* * *

 

Jon stood outside of her cabin for an embarrassingly long time. He faced off against undead monsters from legends, armies that outnumbered his forces in a nearly unwinnable battle, and death itself with less fear than he felt now. He remembered what his lord father had once said about fear and bravery, “A man can only be brave when he’s afraid.”

He used those words to steel himself, raising his fist with a confidence he wasn’t sure he felt. He knocked three times. He couldn’t stop the stab of insecurity, the tick of his head. He needed her dragons. She might reject him. Then what happened? Would she still help him? Or was he ruining everything by being here? But then she had kissed him. It had felt like she wanted more. She had been inviting him since he met her. But had that changed? Was he being a fool?

Too late to turn back now.

She opened the door and his breath caught. He had hoped he would know what to say when he arrived at this moment, but any words he might have had left him at the sight of her.

Luckily, she didn’t seem to need them, moving aside and opening the door more. He stepped in, closing and bolting the door behind him. His eyes never left hers.

They stood there, just inside her door, staring at each other. His eyes kept drifting to her lips, occasionally lower to her chest, the curves of her body.

He wished she weren’t so covered.

His eyes went back to hers, drawn like a magnet. He tried to show the question, his mouth still unable to say anything.

Could he kiss her again?

Daenerys stepped in closer, standing on her toes, angling her mouth towards him as she pulled him down.

Jon needed no more confirmation, he surged forward, gripping her tightly to him as he plundered her mouth.

He was so lost. He was so in love.

Their clothes shed as if by magic and he guided her back to her bed. His mouth never left hers, his hands began to touch every piece of flesh he uncovered on her. Her skin was so soft. He never wanted to leave, never wanted to stop.

They fell back, her landing lightly on him. They continued to kiss for a moment, before he flipped them over, entering her in one powerful stroke.

It was at this moment of connection that he pulled back. He wanted to look at her. Needed it.

He saw the same love he felt for her reflected in her beautiful eyes. How had he ever not loved her? How had she once infuriated him?

He surged forward once again, continuing to kiss and lick her. Jon kept his thrusts deep and powerful. He didn’t want this going too fast.

Daenerys gasped, calling out his name. “Jon.”

It was the first word they’d exchanged. He could feel her fluttering around his cock. It felt heavenly. It felt like she was made for him, wetter and tighter than he’d ever imagined. She was perfect.

She was his.

“Dany,” he gasped.

She flinched. “Not that name. That’s what Viserys calls me.”

Jon pulled back to look her in the eyes again. He didn’t want that asshole in his bed. He said, his thumb brushing back a stray curl, “Not Dany.” He inhaled. “How about my queen?”

She smiled brightly. He wanted to see her look this way always. Her hands combed through his hair. “I hope I deserve this,” she said in a soft voice. One meant for lovers.

“You do,” he replied against her skin. He kissed her again, moving slower now. Her legs wrapped around his thighs, encouraging him to speed up as her nails scratched his back.

Jon licked at her lips, feeling like the wolf everyone called him. Gods, how had he ever thought to give this up? How had he resisted her for so long? He roughened his pace, slamming into Daenerys now.

She bit him in response, her nails digging deeper. He didn’t care, responded to the pain. Gods, he loved this woman.

He felt the moment she shattered around him, felt her inner walls clamp down on him.

Jon’s release followed shortly after, he continued thrusting through it. He was out of breath and he collapsed on top of her for a moment.

He felt like he was home, more than he’d even felt in Winterfell. She was his home.

After a long moment, Jon pushed himself up, kissing her once more. He looked at Daenerys, hoping she didn’t resent him resting his weight on her, but she looked at him softly, with that same loving gaze he’d seen before.

His heart thumped against his ribs and he kissed her again. “Marry me,” he said against her lips.

He wasn’t sure if he’d meant to say that, but he knew it was what he wanted. He wanted to wrap his cloak around her in front of a weirwood. Wanted to bow before the old gods as he took her as a wife.

Part of him feared her reaction, but her hands forced his face to look at her. Her eyes looked into his as she answered with a smile, “Yes.”

He kissed her again. Daenerys laughed, and Jon knew he wanted to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

She forced him to his back, climbing astride of him. He was ready again.

They got no sleep that night.

 

* * *

 

Tyrion had been smiling for the last hour, and for once, it had nothing to do with the amount of wine coursing through his veins. The princess was gone, run off with the northern king. 

His king was furious, but Tyrion didn’t care. He poured more wine, intending to get good and drunk. He wished for a woman.

He knew the king kept plenty of bedslaves, but Tyrion didn’t want his dick inside a woman who’d already been had by the king. And it felt strange not to pay them. He much preferred the more noble practice of whoring.

He drank deeply of his wine. He knew he should be planning the next step, figuring out how to be rid of the vicious idiot he called king, but he wanted to celebrate. There had been so little reason to do so in his miserable life. But he’d accomplished step one in his plan – Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen, would marry the King in the North, Jon Snow.

His queen had gotten her king, was probably fucking him right now.

Tyrion shook his head with a laugh. The fucking broody bastard, never would have Tyrion guessed how important that half-drunk boy he’d met in Winterfell’s yard all those years ago would be so important to him.

He saw a flicker of movement in the shadowed corner of the room. Tyrion, too drunk to defend himself, tried to put on his worst scowl. “Who’s there?”

A chuckle sounded, then a man stepped into the light. A familiar face. “Is that anyway to greet an old friend?”

Tyrion repressed the smile threatening to break across his face. “I thought you’d refused to serve a king you deemed worse than my nephew?”

Varys looked appropriately saddened to deliver the news, “I’m afraid the king died on the privy, crossbolt through his heart.”

Tyrion’s eyebrow raised, pausing mid-drink. He set it back down. “You’re not planning on framing me for this?”

Varys took a seat opposite the Hand, swiping his long sleeves for an added flourish as he did so. “No. His body will be found out by the dragons, incinerated. I’m afraid we’ll never exactly know what happened, but it appears he tried to go after his sister. The dragons apparently didn’t share his plan. I doubt anyone will question it further than that.”

Tyrion nodded. He shifted his tone to mock astonishment, “I cannot believe that our new queen would run off with the King in the North.” He took one more drink to finish his wine, placing it down with a bang. “We shall have to go north with our army and fetch her.”

“Gods help us all if that barbarian king takes advantage of her while they are isolated on that boat.” Varys shook his head as if disappointed at the very thought. “He may end up fathering a new dynasty upon her.”

“Oh yes, that would be most terrible.” Tyrion paused. “Though I think Jon Snow is honorable. He’ll marry her if he defiled our poor queen.”

Varys inclined his head as if considering something for the first time. “So that would make Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen the King and Queen of Westeros? Such a shame.”

“Yes, it is. Not at all what we planned.”

“Of course not.”

The men share a smile.

“I’ve missed you, old friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos on this story. There were times when I wasn’t sure I liked this story or its premise, but your kind words pushed me to finish it.


	4. Bonus AU One-Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this was a prompt requested by Elrickyblade on tumblr, which features an AU within this AU. It takes place after Chapter 2.
> 
> Prompt: Jon and Dany 'do the do' while on Dragonstone and are trying to make sure Viserys doesn't find out.

**** Daenerys kept thinking about this Jon Snow. Viserys had told her to seduce him, but she hadn’t planned on any feelings. Her instincts told her to avoid him. After her whipping and their discussion, she felt too much for him. She wanted him, not for political gain or a power play or to manipulate him, but just because she wanted him.

The last time she’d felt this way, she’d gotten a man killed. She could still hear Daario’s screams whenever her thoughts drifted back to him. She feared what Jon Snow’s agonizing death would do to her, as she already cared for him more than she had Daario. So she tried to put the northerner out of her mind. She tried to focus on something else.

Daenerys had noticed that the women of this realm did something called needlepoint. She learned that it was basically the female equivalent of swordplay. Needlepoint wasn’t really a thing in Essos, and Daenerys had known nothing about it. Nor had she ever learned about it until stepping onto Dragonstone’s shores and seeing the local women. She supposed that was because all of the Westerosi she had spoken with were men. What did any of them know of woman’s work?

Unlike Viserys and swordplay, Daenerys became determined to learn this skill that was expected of noble women, even princesses. She’d asked a local woman to instruct her, constructing her own version of a group of ladies in waiting or sewing circle or whatever it was called. It began awkwardly, as none of the women knew what to make of the strange woman, and Daenerys assumed, feared the Targaryen madness. But over time, the atmosphere relaxed and the women talked freely, if still formally. It was a move in the right direction.

As for her actual needlework, it was not going well. Her stitches were sloppy and uneven. She felt like she took more stitches out than actually stitched. Most of the women had finished several pieces, while Daenerys was still struggling with her first attempt.

The other women tried to help, giving her tips and advice, but that just frustrated Daenerys. She hated to show weaknesses, hated for anyone to see anything that might be construed as a weakness.

So alone, in her apartments at night, she would work furiously to improve on her own. She would then surprise everyone with her newfound talent.

Working beside the fire one night, she attempted to fix her mistakes from that afternoon without pulling out stitches, but it was just turning into a big mess. Her fingers were sore from the work and the constant needle pricks that she was sure more skilled women didn’t have.

A knock at the door barely broke through her focus and she answered automatically. “Come in.” She didn’t think until after she’d said it that she wasn’t expecting anyone. Sometimes Tyrion or Missandei visited her at night, but usually such gatherings were expected. Or with Tyrion, emergencies. So who was calling her tonight without warning?

Her eyes darted up, worried that it might be Viserys, drunk and demanding.

She was shocked to find the King of the North, looking back at her. He appeared nervous, not stepping into her chambers very far, as if totally aware of the inappropriateness of him being in her private chamber at night. He seemed very concerned with that, she’d noticed, proprietary, or at least, the honor surrounding it.

She still wasn’t sure how she wanted to act around him. Still didn’t like how her heart sped up at the sight of him. She’d been avoiding him for a reason. Hadn’t he gotten the message? Northern fool, she thought bitterly, ignoring her heart’s reaction to him. She bent over her work again.

He said nothing for a moment, and then spoke, “I haven’t seen you much lately. I just wanted to check if you were all right. I mean if you were...” He cut himself off, as if not liking the words. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. Your back, I mean… the whipping.” He cut himself off again, seemingly embarrassed by his lack of skill in elocution..

Oh, right. It was kind of him to check on her. It had been a week since the whipping, and her wounds were healing nicely, no longer bleeding. Though if she moved wrong, a stab of pain would shoot through her. Daenery felt something in her chest give, another wall down. Damn this Jon Snow. “I’m fine,” she replied in what she hoped was a cool voice, but feared it didn’t really sound like her usual emotionless tone.

She thought he’d left. Duty done, and her sufficiently checked on. So she went back to her needlepoint. The blob of thread was getting worse. She would have to cut her losses on this, and she looked for the small knife to begin taking out thread.

She was surprised to find that Jon had ventured in further and was now looking over her shoulder, “Your sewing is as good as my sister Arya’s.”

Daenerys brightened, tool forgotten, was it really worthy of a noble lady? She held it out to look at it again, trying to see it with fresh eyes. “Really?”

“Yes,” Jon leaned down, seeming amused. “She was terrible at it too.”

Daenerys threw the hoop down in disgust. “I don’t know what I’m doing. In Essos, I barely wore clothes, let alone ever mended or decorated them. Half my dresses were scraps of silk held together by bands, the other half were practically see through.”

Jon coughed, standing straight again. He took a step away from her, turning his attention to the grand fireplace in front of her chair. “Really?”

Daenerys could hear the note of interest in his voice, despite his attempt to hide it. She hid a smirk, and then deliberately crossed her legs. Jon tried to hide his looks, but she could see the red in his neck by the firelight. He cleared his throat again. “My sister Sansa is quite good with sewing. She could probably give you a few pointers. If you came north.”

He certainly was single-minded. Daenerys stood and went over to pour herself a glass of wine, pouring a second for Jon as well. When she handed it to him, he eyed it suspiciously. Daenerys rolled her eyes, “It’s not poisoned. I promise.” She took a sip of her own to prove it.

“That wasn’t my concern,” Jon took his own drink, a longer pull than a sip. Daenerys wondered what his concern was then. Did he fear getting drunk around her? Why?

The pleasant feeling sweet wine brought coursed through her veins. It was what she was looking for. A little impaired judgement and warmth.

Her eyes looked over Jon Snow again. Wine also tended to bring out her seducturess side. She had learned that Tyrion was right, such an act wouldn’t work on Jon Snow. But it wasn’t as much as an act anymore. Perhaps all she needed was a bit of liquid courage. 

Perhaps that was all he needed. 

She stood next to him, careful not to touch him, gazing into the flames. Daenerys wanted to reach her hand out and let the fire lick and caress her skin, but she knew such an action would freak the northern king out and she didn’t want to ruin the mood.

Her mind shifted back to their conversation, which she picked up again, “As lovely as sewing with Sansa might be, I think I may prefer to converse with your other sister instead.”

One look at his crushed face and she knew she’d effectively killed whatever mood might have been brewing. “Arya is lost,” he said. “Dead, I think. I know. She would have appeared by now if she wasn’t.”

Daenerys watched her wine twirl in her glass. “But you don’t really know. People knew the dragons were gone. People knew the White Walkers were just a story. People think they know a lot of things that turn out not to be true.”

Jon was looking at her now, differently than he usually did. His eyes, so warm, looked at her like she was precious, and more than beautiful or enchanting, but like she was everything he ever wanted or dreamed of. It unnerved her more than any look of naked lust had. “You believe me then? About the army of the dead?”

Daenerys didn’t know. She wasn’t sure either way anymore. He didn’t seem a liar, but it seemed so far-fetched. She finished her glass of wine and walked back to pour another, deliberately not answering him. She was nervous. It had been years since she’d been nervous. Not since being a virgin bride, sold off to a horse lord. She immediately began to drank again.

When she turned, she was surprised to find Jon Snow directly behind her. He held out his empty glass and she filled it again. They drank together, eyes connected, but no words shared. Daenerys could feel the power she often felt seep back into her. True he was a king, and she only a princess, but she had been secretly ruling over one king for years -- what was one more to add to the collection?

The thought made her smile and she walked away, being sure to keep his eyes focused on her. She could feel his heated gaze follow her movements. The wine warmed her, but not half as much as the idea of him picturing her in one of her Essos’ dresses or out of it. “Do you know anything about Dothraki wedding customs?”

“No,” his voice was husky, his accent rougher than usual. 

“You’ve been spending time with them in the caves. Haven’t you learned about their culture? Asked them questions?”

“We don’t share a common language, your majesty,” Jon answered. “And I’m not planning on marrying a Dothraki.”

He began to stalk towards her, like a predator. Daenerys felt the thrill of it, and she slipped away, moving from the fireplace to the window. She looked out the window, bathed in the full moon’s light. 

“Who are you planning on marrying then, Jon Snow? Is there some northern bride waiting for you to return to her?” 

Jon stopped. His gaze made Daenerys uncomfortable. She could feel the insecurity bubble up, but pushed it down ruthlessly. She was blood of the dragon. She did not care what wolves thought. 

She tried to comfort herself with the lie, but still waited for his answer. Desperate to know if it was his faithfulness to another that kept him from her. 

“No,” he answered. He had brought the bottle over, filling both of their glasses again and setting it down on a nearby table. “Between a vow of celibacy and a fight with the dead, I haven’t found time for such things.”

His words comforted her for some reason, much like his presence next to her, looking at the moon with her. 

“Dothraki make love under the open sky. Under the sun and the moon and stars.” Daenerys felt herself get lost in memories of her lost love.

“Wildlings do that too. Make love out in the open. The good people of Westeros would be horrified by such things though.”

Daenerys looked at the stoic king, knowing from his look that he shared her lost love, shared her bittersweet memories. Another piece of the puzzle that was Jon Snow fell into place for her. She wanted to ask who she was, wanted to learn everything about how an honorable man of the Night’s Watch had clearly found love once before.

But she also didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want more sad tales, didn’t want to hear him speak of his love for another woman. So she sipped on her wine instead, her eyes still looking to the sky, enjoying a comfortable silence.

Jon ducked his head, looking down at his nearly finished wine. “I should go. I’m intruding.”

Daenerys reached out to grab his arm. “No, I’m enjoying your company.”

He seemed surprised at her words, suspicious of them. Why? Daenerys wondered. If he had truly bothered her, she would have ordered him away. What made a king question his worth in the presence of a mere princess?

Then she remembered, Snow not Stark. She suspected it was a source of many sad tales from Jon Snow. “Stay, Jon.” His name seemed so strange coming off her tongue. Such a common name for an uncommon man. Her eyes glanced to the not quite finished bottle. “Finish the bottle with me and tell me tales of the north.” She took a seat at the small table, leaving a free chair across from her. 

He shifted his weight, glancing at the closed but unbolted door. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

Daenerys dismissed propriety with a wave of her hand. “For tonight, we shall not be a Westorosi princess and king. We shall be a Dothraki and a wildling.”

Jon smirked, taking a step towards the table even as he shook his head. “I’m no wildling.”

“I’m not really a Dothraki, but we spent time with them. We understand their cultures. Daresay, we even admire certain aspects of them.”

Jon set down his goblet before taking his seat. “Aye. What is it that you like of Dothraki culture?”

Such a complicated question, Daenerys thought. She had come alive as a khaleesi, flourished in the strange culture for the first time. “The Dothraki take what they want, relying on strength. I was so meek before my time with them. I hated to ask for scraps of food, let alone go after something I really wanted.”

He snorted as he took a sip of his refilled glass. “I don’t believe it.” His eyes went over her figure, the wine clearly getting to him. “I can’t see you as meek.”

“I assure you that I was.” Daenerys thought of her childhood, running from assassins with only Viserys for company. Only her brother still could bring out that little girl in her. She had died so long ago except when her brother got into one of his tempers or acted sweet towards her. She finished her wine and poured herself another glass. They would need a second bottle soon. “Life was hard without a home. So much had been taken from my brother. I didn’t want to add to his burdens.”

Jon’s eyes told her that he understood. His words confirmed it. “I learned to hide myself in Winterfell. I already brought shame to my honorable father, I didn’t want to add to his troubles. I hated how his noble wife looked at me with such hatred. I thought it would help if I could just disappear. Be a shadow.”

Daenerys thought of the self-confident king she knew. The one that stood in their imposing throne room and defied her brother and herself. She tried to combine the image of the man she knew with the boy he described. She shook her head, unable to reconcile the two. “I guess we’ve both grown.”

“I guess so. Killed the boy and girl to make room for the man and woman.” 

Still Daenerys’ thoughts lingered on the boy Jon Snow had been. She pictured him, cute with his dark curls and big soulful eyes, lingering in shadows and hiding in corners. Quiet and shy as she’d been. He might have been a friend and playmate in another life. Her thoughts drifted to what his future child might look like though she gave the imagined child some of her features as well. 

This was dangerous territory and foolish of her. She would bear no more children, stupid of her to imagine otherwise. Such hope would only lead to pain. She shook her head clear of such musings. 

“Tell me about the wildings. I know little of them except that they lived beyond the Wall and often attacked northerners for resources.”

“They call themselves Free Folk. That’s how they see themselves, as free. They kneel to no king. They take what they need and want. They do as they please. They take no vows, follow no rules.” He sounded almost wistful.

“No one’s ever free,” Daenerys snorted before drinking again. “Do they not take wives, have children? Do they not have fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers? Family bonds like that cannot be tossed aside. Freedom is just a myth.” She finished her wine and got up to fetch a second bottle.

She could feel Jon’s eyes on her, studying her. Though a glance at him showed no lust in his gaze, just curiosity. “You’ve seen slavery. It’s all around you here, yet you still think a people cannot be free?”

Daenerys sat down, fresh wine spilling from her goblet. “There are different forms of slavery, Lord Snow. I’ve had three husbands that I had no say in taking, yet they call me a princess rather than a slave.”

Jon’s dark eyes continued to study her. “There are many injustices in this world.” He hesitated. “Do you think Viserys plans to build a better one? Right some of the wrongs?”

Daenerys licked her lips and answered honestly. “No. He’ll just be more of the same.”

Jon finished his wine and poured a new glass, standing. “That’s why I can’t bow to him. Why I won’t put my people under his control. They need a leader and a protector, not just another selfish ruler.”

She stood as well, her spine stiffening. “I suppose you think yourself that leader?”

His temper broke, his voice rose, “I don’t want this. I never wanted to lead. I never wanted these burdens. But I cannot turn away from them. I cannot turn my back on my people and my duty.” His eyes met hers. “No matter what I really want.”

Daenerys put down her glass, walking towards this King in the North, their eyes still connected. He seemed confused as she took his glass from him, setting it down as well. She stood close to him. She could tell it made him nervous. Still her eyes stayed on his. “But tonight we are not a princess and a king, bound by our duties. We are Dothraki and Free Folk. We take what we want.” 

His breathing changed, turning heavy as if he was doing something vigorous rather than just standing there staring at her lips. His gaze drifting over her figure as Daenerys removed her woolen robe, leaving her in a thin shift. She lifted her head, challenging him.

Jon attacked. His lips catching hers in a desperate battle of lips, teeth and tongue. She wasn’t sure if she was being kissed or devoured. It was sloppy, lustful and devastating.

It was the best first kiss she could ever remember having.

Daenerys hand caught on the table, as she’d been thrown back to it by the force of him and his desire for her. One of the goblets fell, the glass shattering on the stone floor. She didn’t care. She straightened herself once more. She needed both hands to caress Jon Snow, to tangle her hands in his hair and feel the strength hidden in his lithe body. 

HIs arms came around her, crushing her body to his. Daenerys didn’t mind. Her nails bit down through his curls into his scalp, causing him to break the kiss with a hiss. She used the opportunity to duck her head and kiss her way up his jaw. One of her legs hooked around his hip to pull him closer.

Jon’s hands moved to grip her ass and Daenerys gasped now. She could feel how badly he wanted her now and she grinding against him. To her amusement, this made him curse and he tore them apart briefly and tried to calm himself down.

She did nothing to help him with this, moving in to kiss him again, her tongue tangling with his. He didn’t pull away from her, his fingers fisting in her hair. They kissed for long minutes, possibly hours. Daenerys began to guide them closer to her bed.

Jon’s mouth left hers, but he didn’t go far. He nuzzled into her neck, kissing whatever skin was near. He made his way behind her jaw, causing her to gasp and caught her earlobe between his teeth for a gentle bite.

Daenerys gasp grew into a moan and she broke away from him. It was too much. This teasing was too much. She tried to force him to the bed, but Jon wasn’t ready yet. He continued to kiss her, focusing on the areas around her face until he made his way to her other ear.

“Turn around,” he whispered, his lips still catching her skin.

Daenerys tensed, remembering all the times Drogo had taken her in this way. She had never wanted to be used in such a way again. But against her better judgement, she turned, trusting Jon Snow.

What was she doing? She should stop this. She tossed aside her objections, wanting this more than she wanted to be right. To her surprise, he kept her standing rather than forcing her to her knees on the bed before them. 

She felt him fumble with the fabric of her dress, looking for the hidden hooks that kept it on. Before he got too frustrated and ripped it off her, Daenerys helped him, removing the dress and her small clothes with it.

As she stood naked before his still clothed figure, she thought about how she should feel exposed or vulnerable. But for some reason, when she looked over her shoulder and saw Jon Snow’s soft look as he took her in, she only felt beautiful. So many men had called her beautiful, but it always felt meaningless. This man didn’t even say anything, and she could feel it.

When his eyes climbed back up, meeting hers, Daenerys heart stopped for a moment. Then he stepped forward, capturing her lips once more, this time, softly, gently. He broke away from her lips, which she tried to recapture, but he’d moved around to her back. He began kissing the angry red welts still there.

Daenerys’ eyes faced forward again, she could feel the tears spring to her eyes, but she didn’t want him to see them. She could hear his words of comfort as his hands caressed her sides gently. “So beautiful. So brave. My Dany.”

She knew she should correct him, insist she wasn’t his anything, but she didn’t care at the moment. When was the last time she felt like this? Comforted and, dare she say it, loved? Jon worshipped her, kissing every mark on her, taking away the pains of the past.

It was too much and Daenerys whipped around, catching her lover by surprise. He was kneeling and she straddled his laps, crashing her lips into his. After a moment she pulled back and whispered against his lips, “Take off your damn clothes and take me to bed.”

Jon grinned wolfishly, removing his layers then standing, with his hands holding her ass, her legs wrapped around his hips as he carried her to the bed. She kissed him madly now as he carried her, which he returned just as wildly. 

Daenerys tried to ignore the burst of feeling in her chest. Tried to hold back the flood of emotion she felt for this man. She blamed it on the wine. She could not feel this way. It was just sex. That was all this could be.

And just like that, after all of her plans failed, Daenerys Targaryen got the King in the North to fall into bed with her.

 

* * *

 

Jon slowly woke up, unsure of where he was as his senses tuned him into his surroundings. He was chilly, but it wasn’t the bone cold that had been the Wall and beyond it. His was bed was too comfortable to be his childhood room at Winterfell, the sheets too luxurious to be his room there as king. 

Dragonstone his memory supplied. He was at Dragonstone. It wasn’t until he could feel the body laying on his arm that his memory fully remembered what had happened though.

His eyes shot open. No, he thought. No, he didn’t.

But he could see the silver hair spread across his scarred chest. His eyes went shut again as he cursed in his mind. 

What had he promised himself as he made the journey here? No matter how beautiful the Dragon Princess, he would not be tricked into her bed. What had he sworn after arriving and meeting her? No matter what she did, no matter what she tried, he would act as celibate as he’d vowed to be in his previous life.

Then again, he rebuked himself, he had stayed as celibate as he had been as a man of the Night’s Watch, which was not celibate with one woman.

Fuck. Jon wanted to run away, but he stayed still, not ready for her to wake up. He wasn’t ready to face those violet eyes. He was still too weak. Images of the night before flashed before him and he hardened at the memory of her, beneath him, above him, the way her face looked at the height of pleasure, the sounds she made.

Not now, he thought. He needed to steel himself against her. He needed to think. She could use this against him, force an alliance he wasn’t ready to give. He didn’t want to bow to her brother. He wouldn’t give away the North, not even at the cost of his honor.

He’d learned from Robb’s lesson. He’d lived with the shame of laying with a wildling woman on the Wall; he’d live with the shame of laying with a beautiful princess as a king. His entire life had prepared him for living with shame.

Except, he wouldn’t live at all. He’d escaped execution for his actions when Maester Aemon defended him. He wouldn’t do that a second time, not with this Targaryen king.

Fuck, he thought again. One great night, and he ruined everything he’d been seeking by coming down here. He’d forfeited his life for one night with her.

Jon looked down at the beautiful woman in his arms. It had been worth it, his heart said before his brain could stop it. Seeing the harsh marks on her back, ugly red scars that nearly matched the ones on his chest, he knew that it had been worth it. She was worth it. 

At least he’d die not wondering what it would be like, to be with her. He hugged her to him, his lips gently brushing against her forehead.

Daenerys squirmed in his grip, moaning softly. Her hands clung to his chest for a moment as he watched her wake up similar to how he had, confused and then surprised by the naked man in her bed. She looked up at him, purple eyes wide open now and staring at him. 

He tried to hide the doubt and fear from his eyes. He gave her a tight smile, “Good morning.”

Jon took away his arm from her, unsure how she was feeling now. She removed her leg from where it was entwined between his. She gave him her own tight smile, “Good morning.”

Ser Davos was going to kill him, Jon thought. His wizened Hand might be looking for him right now. King Viserys would surly force him to marry the princess if he found out that the King in the North had defiled his little sister. Though it hadn’t felt like that to Jon, she seemed to have done the defiling. She had known far more tricks than him after all.

He might have dragged his people into a pointless, stupid war by falling into bed with this woman. Jon cursed himself again for his weakness. Still unsure of her reaction, he tried to keep his thoughts off his face. “Good morning,” he repeated.

“You said that,” she said with a smirk.

“Aye,” he agreed, eyes darting now that she was sitting up. She wasn’t bothering to cover herself and it was distracting. “This is new to me.”

“Really?” she asked. “You didn’t act like a virgin last night.”

Jon blushed. “I wasn’t a…” He coughed. “What I mean is that you’re a princess, I didn’t mean to…I don’t know how...what to...how we...” He coughed again. 

Daenerys made no attempt to help him with his fumbling words. Her cool mask was firmly in place, much to his annoyance. She said, “Maybe you are a virgin. You don’t seem to have any idea how to act around women.”

Jon swallowed, looking away from her. He felt the bed shift and guessed that she was rising from the bed. He kept his eyes averted, trying to be a gentleman despite it being a little late for such behavior. 

She spoke and he looked at her. She’d picked up her robe from the floor and was moving her hair out of it. Daenerys said, “Last night we weren’t ourselves, and it will stay in last night. Today is today and we are here again. No one needs to know what happened. Agreed?”

For some reason her words didn’t quite sit right with him, but he nodded his head. He looked around trying to find his clothes. They were too far from the bed for him to get them without leaving, naked. He debated on whether he should fetch them with the blanket wrapped around his waist or just bare all. She’d seen it already but that wasn’t daylight.

The princess took pity on him, turning around. He went for his pants first. She asked, back still to him, “Are all northerners prudes or just you?”

Jon didn’t think of himself as a prude, just reserved. Still he pulled up the breeches and laced them.He looked for his tunic, but he didn’t see it. He thought back to the night before, which direction had he thrown it?

But thinking of the night before just distracted him and soon he stood there like a slack-jawed idiot thinking of the beautiful woman he’d had several times. Daenerys had turned looking at his still undressed state with a raised eyebrow. The look snapped Jon from his stupor and he looked for his shirt.

He put it on once he found it and sat on the bed to pull on his boots. A knock at the door caused him to leap up, but Daenerys signaled for him to remain quiet. She went to the door. “Yes?”

A woman’s voice answered, “Your majesty, did you need help with your hair or dressing this morning?”

“A few minutes more, Missandei,” Daenerys answered back. “I slept in this morning and was just about to get into the bath.”

Jon heard soft footsteps walking away. He remembered the Dothraki guards that had been stationed outside Daenerys’ room. Would they report that he’d not left that night? Despite Daenerys’ words, Jon could feel the panic rise up in him. They would be caught. They would be found out and he’d be forced to marry and kneel or kneel and die.

Daenerys’ hand was on his cheek soothing away his fears. “Last night was lovely, Jon. I don’t regret it.”

“It can never happen again,” Jon was saying it to himself more than her.

She removed her hand. Jon realized his mistake immediately. He hastened to correct it. “I don’t regret it either though.” His eyes darted. “It was a great night.”

Daenerys smiled but Jon saw that it didn’t quite reach her eyes.He had seen her truly happy now. He longed to see her that happy always. He’d gotten glimpses of that Daenerys, of the real woman dressed beneath the princess, and he wanted so much more of her. But he was a king, he couldn’t allow himself to be taken in by such distractions.

He ducked out of her room.

If anyone had noticed he’d gone missing from his room, they said nothing. It made Jon wonder if they had truly hidden their liaison, which of course led Jon to wonder if he and Daenerys could continue to get away with it. 

It was a fool’s wish. One that he knew he should forget, but it wouldn’t leave him. Getting one night with Daenerys was like getting a hit of an addictive drug and he was now aching for more. But he did his best to ignore it. He focused on the mining and on planning the future battles against the Night King. This nearly worked until it was time to retire to his bedchamber, alone.

Before sleep, all he could think of was her. All he wanted to do was find her chamber once more. Have her one more time.

But being king wasn’t about getting what he wanted; it was about doing what was right.

One night, after she’d found him in the cave and mercilessly flirted with him during the day, he found he couldn’t sleep. Knowing that being exhausted the following day would not be good, Jon decided to go for a walk to try to exhaust himself into sleep. 

He wandered around Dragonstone and his mind wandered with him. This place, which he’d thought cold and dark when he first arrived, was quite beautiful. All the dragons in stone had clearly been carved by a stone mason with exceptional skill. He let his fingers brush over the length of one of the dragon’s bodies. He wondered what this palace looked like in summer, thought about all the former princes who’d walked these paths before him. 

Trueborn sons and heirs to the Iron Throne had been here and now he, a bastard calling himself king, followed them. Jon felt that inadequacy that plagued him throughout his life creep up, but he attempted to suppress it. He could leave no room for doubts here in the lair of his enemy. 

Jon heard a raucous noise ahead and turned to avoid it, guessing it was the king and his revelries. He noticed that Viserys Targaryen acted more like Robert Baratheon than either king would probably want to hear. Both were selfish men, more interested in their own pleasure than actually ruling. 

Though at least Robert Baratheon had tales of former glory to help Jon understand how the man could wear a crown. What did Viserys have but a more worthy sister supporting him?

Jon damn near sighed. It always came back to her, didn’t it? Lately she was all he could think about, no matter how hard he tried not to. His feet took him to her door. He wished he could be surprised. But he took a deep breath and he knocked.  He regretted it as soon as the noise echoed in the hallway, but he was committed now. 

She opened it quickly, almost too quickly and his breath caught at the sight of her. Gods, how could one woman be allowed so much beauty?

Her eyes questioned his presence, and against his better judgment, Jon answered, “Just once more.” 

Daenerys opened the door wider to admit him. Jon entered, his eyes never leaving hers. He closed the door and bolted it.

 

* * *

 

Once more became twice more. Twice more became two more times after that. Until they both stopped lying to themselves and each other. If they could stop this, it never would have started in the first place.

Still, they attempted to hide from the rest of the eyes on Dragonstone, Viserys in particular, knowing how dangerous the game they were playing was.

 

* * *

 

Viserys watched them. He saw the way the northern barbarian smiled at his sister, completely smitten like so many men before him. It didn’t worry Viserys, it was what he commanded after all. 

What he didn’t like was Dany’s insistence that she had yet to successfully seduce the false king. He seemed pretty seduced to Viserys. He suspected she was hiding something, but he couldn’t imagine what. 

He once came across the false king speaking with that old man the fool had named his Hand. “...out of your bleeding mind? In what part of your brain did you think that was a good idea? Nevermind, I know what part of you was doing your thinking there. You goddamned fool.” the old man had yelled, drawing Viserys’ attention.

“Would you keep your voice down?” the bastard who called himself king had answered back. Their voices lowered and no longer able to hear them, Viserys moved along. He wasn’t truly interested in the northerner’s nonsense. It probably had nothing to do with him. He already suspected the man mad with his talk of the dead coming for them all.

Northern nonsense.

But the words stuck with Viserys, clinging to him mind and not leaving him alone. What was the king doing that was so bad that his Hand would chance to yell at him? A King could remove a Hand easily enough. Hands were to deal with the more unattractive parts of ruling a kingdom, not to contradict their kings. If Tyrion ever spoke to him like that, Viserys would have the dwarf’s head. 

What had they been speaking about?

Viserys began noticing more whispers between his sister and her dwarf as well. They always spoke behind his back, Viserys knew, but this seemed different somehow. They both seemed more agitated, like whatever they were plotting was more personal.

It bothered Viserys. He wanted to know what was happening in his castle. He spoke with his Unsullied commander, Grey Worm. “Find out what the King in the North and my sister are hiding.” 

The stoic commander obeyed with a curt bow. Viserys than put the curious behavior out of his mind, not thinking about how the Unsullied weren’t really trained to handle matters of intrigue.

He put it out of his mind completely until Tyrion asked him, wine pitcher in hand, “Why did you order the Unsullied to follow Jon Snow? He’s been complaining to me about the lack of trust.”

“What? I didn’t do that.” Stupid slaves, Viserys had thought, forgetting his orders to them. 

Tyrion licked his lips before saying, “Grey Worm confirmed it. You ordered him to find out the King in the North’s secret.”

Oh, right. Well, why hadn’t he had results yet? Stupid Varys for running off. He would have known. “So what if I did? He’s a rebellious lord, bastard born. I’m a king. I can do whatever I want.”

“Still,” Tyrion edged, “It doesn’t really help us gain allies if you have them followed.” 

“He is hiding something from us,” Viserys said.

Tyrion ducked his head as he took a drink. “What do you think it could be?”

Viserys wasn’t sure, but he suspected it had something to do with Daenerys. Really it could only be one thing. “He’s fucking her. My poor baby sister.”

Tyrion’s face gave away nothing. “That’s a serious accusation. Do you have proof?”

“What do I need proof for?” Viserys shook his head. He was a king. Kings didn’t need trials and such nonsense. He knew. That had to be it. Daenerys had succeeded after all. Why she hadn’t told him didn’t matter. Viserys had his enemy right where he wanted him. “Bring Lord Snow in here,” the king commanded.

Tyrion finished his wine and stood. “I will fetch the princess. May I ask, who are you planning to name your champion?”

“What are you talking about?” 

“I am almost certain that Jon Snow will request a trial by combat to prove his innocence. He will probably do his own fighting. Who are you planning to name to fight against him?”

Viserys thought of the easy defeat he’d suffered at the northerner’s hands. His blood ran cold at the thought of letting the man escape. He thought for a moment before his lips curled up in a nasty grin. “I shall do as my father did and name fire my champion against the Stark.”

Tyrion’s eyes narrowed. “I see.” He left with a curt bow. 

Viserys climbed the steps to sit on his imposing throne. He arranged himself in a kingly pose, ready to look down on all of them. He couldn’t wait to hear the northerner scream in pain. Couldn’t wait to watch the fire consume the man who’d been a pain since he’d arrived here.

His sister arrived first, the dwarf waddling at her heels. She wasted no time in climbing the stairs to speak with her brother directly. “Viserys, what is this? What is going on?”

His eyes met his sister’s and he was surprised by the fear he found there. “I think you know, sweet sister.”

Her wide eyes looked innocent, but Viserys knew better. “I don’t. I don’t know what this is all about. Please, brother, tell me.”

Viserys didn’t respond and the bastard who called himself the King in the North walked in. He looked irritated. “What’s this then?”

“You’ve betrayed my trust, Lord Snow.” Viserys put every ounce of mocking he could into the title, which made the northerner stiffen and his eyes narrow. “You’ve insulted me and repaid my generosity with scorn. These are crimes against your king that will not go unpunished.”

“Really?” The northerner looked to his Hand, who shrugged. “And how have I done that?”

Viserys leaned forward, his eyes meeting the so-called king’s. “You’re fucking my baby sister.”

There was no surprise at the accusation. He didn’t break eye contact or look ashamed or embarrassed. To Viserys’ surprise he responded with honesty, “Yes, I am.”

Both Hands looked upset by this admission. Davos glaring at his liege and Tyrion’s sour looked directed towards Daenerys.

Viserys looked at his baby sister, who looked at Jon in a way he’d never seen her look at any man before. With a soft expression and worry that made Viserys jealous for reasons he didn’t quite understand. Dany’s soft voice said, “Oh Jon.”

Viserys wouldn’t hear another word of this. “Kill him,” he ordered. 

Davos stepped up. “You can’t just execute him. He deserves a trial. You haven’t even properly accused him of anything.”

“He just admitted his crime,” Viserys said.

“Since when is foolishness a crime?” Davos’ look turned to Tyrion. “This will be war. The North won’t stand for it.”

Tyrion looked to his king, “Your Grace…” he began.

But Viserys didn’t let him continue. These fools didn’t understand. He stood, screeching, “I am king. My word is law. I want him dead. Kill him.”

The Unsullied moved to obey him, circling Jon Snow, their long spears point at him. Jon pushed Davos away from him, and crouched into a fighting stance. The Unsullied guards moved in one him, but seemed weary, as if they were cornering a dangerous, wild animal.

Like a White Wolf.

Viserys sat again, enjoying the show with a wicked grin on his face. Daenerys knelt at his feet and begged. “Viserys, stop this please. I beg of you. This is madness.”

What did this bitch know of madness? The unloyal slut called their father mad, believing the usurper’s tales of their father’s cruelties, lies that somehow became accepted truth. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her to him. So that their faces were inches apart.

She flinched away from him. His own sister. She let this bastard touch her, let him sample her treasure but not Viserys. That would change tonight, Viserys decided. He would take her, whether she wanted it or not. He would take what was rightfully his, what had always been his.

“You’re hurting me,” Daenerys said. 

“Good,” Viserys said. “You should be punished too, Dany.”

Daenerys’ eyes narrowed. “Don’t call me that.”

Viserys was surprised by her backbone. She should know better by now than to wake the dragon. His grip tightened, his nails digging into her flesh. “You are mine. A Targaryen princess. I will not allow you to be a whore to some northern bastard.”

Daenerys gave him a nasty look. “You put me in his path. You were the one who whored me out to him in the first place. You can’t be mad because I enjoyed it. Because I love him more than I ever did you.”

The words touched some vulnerable spot in Viserys and he hits her, he smacks her across the face with all the strength he has. How dare she. How dare she say that to him. He would show her. Tonight he would take her as he should have back in Essos. She needed to be reminded who she belonged to. 

The sound of it echoed through the chamber and Daenerys fell down the steps of the throne. Jon who’d been keeping the Unsullied back, now yelled at Viserys, “I’m going to fucking kill you.” With that pronouncement, worthy of an execution, Jon slipped under one of the spears to grab an Unsullied sword. He cut that man’s  throat and then went on to battle the rest of the Unsullied.

Grey Worm managed to plunge his spear into the man’s thigh, but he cut off the wooden handle, barely letting the grievous wound slow him down. 

It made Viserys nervous to watch. He looked to Daenerys. Tyrion had come over to help her up, but she waved him away. Viserys ordered her, “Tell your Dothraki to finish him off.” 

She looked at him, as if she was seeing him for the first time. Then her eyes went to Jon, fighting in whirl of swords and spears, outnumbered 10 to 1. Viserys couldn’t see what his sister’s reaction to the scene was, but she said, not looking at him, ““I will ask you one more time, Viserys. Let him go.”

Viserys snorted. “No. He will die.”

She nodded and then turned. Dany’s eyes met his with a fire in them he’d never noticed before. Her jaw was set. She gave orders in Dothraki, her eyes set on him, cold and furious. “Mae disrespected yeri khalessi. Teach mae ale manners. Punish mae. Kill mae.”

Viserys then noticed the Dothraki moving towards him rather than the northerner.

What was happening? What had she said?

Knowing he had no chance in defeating these guards, he screamed to his sister, “Dany, what are these barbarians doing? Tell them them to stop.”

Daenerys said nothing, just watching him. Viserys heard the clash of swords and spears behind her. The king was only outnumbered 5 to 1 now. Viserys panicked as the Dothraki guards came towards him, arakhs out. He noticed the slave girl translator and yelled at her, “Tell these dogs to back off. I command you.”

Missandei stayed silent. She looked at him with hatred in her eyes and a smirk on her face.

Viserys fell back onto his throne, on his knees he cried out to Daenerys, begging, “Dany, no. Dany, please.” The bloodriders continued to approach him.

She did nothing. One of the Dothraki slashed his chest open, and Viserys could feel the blood rush out of him. He fell forward and watched as his sister walked past him, taking his place on the throne. She ordered the Unsullied to stop.

The last image Viserys saw was his sister sitting on his throne. The last words he heard were the proclamations of “Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of Her Name.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dothraki translation: He disrespected your queen. Teach him some manners. Punish him. Kill him.
> 
> Not where I expected this to go. But is anyone really going to complain about Viserys dying too much? You could also consider this an alternate ending. Hope you liked it!


End file.
